Seaworthy Sons
by Sea Dragon Dreamer
Summary: When he signs on the Northwestern for the Opilio season, Brian Hansen finds himself taking on more than he planned. Sequal to Confused Seas, a Deadliest Catch story.
1. Wanting To Fish

"Ease back on the throttle and start using the bow thrusters to guide her to the dock…" Norman stood just behind Brian's left shoulder as the teen-year-old boy attempted to maneuver the 125-foot _Northwestern_ to the dock. Determined concentration glinted in his dark hazel eyes and his lanky body was rigid with anxiety as he peered out the starboard window to check his progress. Only when the boat was safely moored did Brian Hansen allow himself to relax. He grinned as his uncle proudly clapped him on his shoulder. seven

"Good, now finish shutting her down and lock up. Your mom'll be here any minute with your brother and sister." Norman grinned as Brian tugged his sleeve down over the grease-stained cast encasing the teen's hand and wrist, extending halfway up the forearm.

"Is Dad going to be with them?"

"No. He's still on the road with Sig, doing their fundraiser thing." Silence fell again as Norman watched while Brian went through the motions of powering down the Hansen family fishing boat. Locking up the wheelhouse, Brian led the way down the staircase leading into the galley. Nick disappeared out the hatch with his bags as Jake passed the teen his bags; joining his uncle on deck, Jake left Brian to shoulder the backpack before stepping outside himself with duffle in hand. While Norman took the keys from his nephew and secured the hatch behind him, the sounds of good-natured arguing reached their ears. Brian's sixteen-year-old twin brother and sister dropped the subject as their elder brother crossed the deck and tossed his duffle to the tallest of the pair.

Grinning, Christopher caught the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He followed Brian's disappointed look to their approaching mother. Sighing, he let his smile fall.

"Dad really wanted to be here. He would have been shocked to see you docking the boat!" A ghost of a smile tweaked Brian's lips as he laughed dryly. Sharing a knowing look with Norman, his smile broadened as he wrapped an arm around Christopher and Kelly's shoulders.

"If Dad would've been shocked to see me _docking,_ then just think how he'd react if he heard I ran the boat home too."

"Edgar's the least of your problems…remember, the boat is _Sig_'_s_ baby as much as she is Ed's." Norman laughed as Brian grimaced and nodded; the seventeen year old shifted uneasily under Ashton Hansen's scowl.

"Mom, nothing happened! I swear! Everything was fine while I was running the boat."

"_Nothing_, Brian Joseph? _Everything _was _fine_? Then why is there a cast on your arm?" Rolling his eyes skyward, Brian sighed and chose his words carefully before answering his mother's question.

"I wasn't in the captain's chair then…I was just working the deck!" Wincing as Ashton's glare darkened, Brian tried again. "Remember how I called you after that storm a month back? Well, the weather got shitty–er, I mean crappy, and I was helping to secure the deck. I lost my footing and whacked the shi–crap out of my wrist on the wheelhouse ladder…" Ashton's glare darkened and Brian found himself trailing off under the look. Kelly nudged her elder brother's ribs with a grin. Rattling off a list of endless questions, her smile brightened as Brian wrapped his arm across her shoulders with a lopsided grin.

"It was an accident, Half-Pint. Freak accidents happen, _you_ know that." Ashton's brows furrowed as Norman brought up the accident from nearly eighteen years earlier. Watching her three children move ahead of them, Brian proudly describing his summer tendering salmon with Norman, Jake, and Nick, Ashton's expression softened. Reaching the parking lot, the five Hansens waved to Jake and Nick as they drove off.

"I was afraid he was hurt worse than he was." _I was afraid I was going to loose him._ Uneasy with the direction of the conversation, Norman nodded towards Kelly.

"I notice Kelly's talking more. How long's that been going on?"

"Since the beginning of the summer. The high school offered a summer music program, and Kelly really took to the piano. She's made a few new friends and it seems to be helping her a lot, but she still has her moments." Silence fell as they piled into Ashton's Fish and Game truck. On the drive home, the sounds of three young voices laughing and catching up on the summer's events cooled Ashton's frustration further.

Thirty minutes later, the white extended-cab truck came to a stop on the driveway of the two-story house. While the three teenagers piled out of the back and grabbed Brian's bags, Ashton waited as Norman loaded his own gear into his car.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner? You know you're more than welcome." Seeing his nephews and niece reappear into the front yard with a football, Norman shook his head with a smile. He gave Ashton a hug before getting into his car; rolling down the window he watched the teens throwing Christopher's football a moment.

"Thanks, but I need to get going. I told the lady next door I'd be home by seven." Backing out of the driveway and honking the horn, he waved to the three teens and they paused to return the wave. Turning left at the stop sign, he frowned to himself as he thought about the discussion he'd been meaning to have with his brothers when they arrived back in town.

"FUCK NO! Norman, NO. Not. _MY._ Son." Edgar's palm angrily slammed against the table in physical emphasis of his last three words. Sig, Edgar and Norman were seated around the hardwood table friend and fellow crab fisherman Phil Harris had built for Edgar and Ashton's wedding. Fuming, Edgar struggled to regain control of his temper. He rose from the table and moved to stand in front of the bay window overlooking the back yard where Brian, Christopher and Kelly were racing back and forth across the lawn in an improvised game of football. Without turning back to his brothers, he continued, "I don't want my sons or daughter risking their lives for nothing."

"Wait…did you hear what you just said? Ed, what do you think _we're_ doing?" Sig put in, although still uneasy with Norman's proposal. An uncomfortable silence dragged on before Norman tried again.

"Look. All Brian talked about was going out on the boat for Opies this January. He has it all planned out too. He's only half a semester away from graduating high school, and then he's free to go to college or work." Pausing a moment, Norman continued, "Ed, he wants to crab fish." Edgar turned his head to shoot a dark glare at Norman. His head twisted back to do a double take at his eldest son throwing the football to Kelly. Stepping back toward Norman and Sig, he pointed at Brian as he vented his unease.

"MY son isn't going to be a crab fisherman, Norman! It's too dangerous!"

"It's gotten _safer_ in the last eighteen years, Ed – !"

"FUCK safer, Norman! I don't want my son – either one of them! – to go out on the Bering Sea. And there's no way in _HELL_ Kelly's going out there either!" In his haste to get his point across, Edgar's voice had risen to a roar and carried through the open windows, reaching the teens across the yard. Pausing in mid-throw, Brian's dark red brows furrowed as his father's words sank in. Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Brian barely danced three steps to the right before tumbling to the ground in a heap with Christopher. Laughing as she joined them on the warm grass, Kelly touched Brian's arm and her hands flew as she silently agreed with their father.

"_I don't want you to leave either. Besides, he might have a good point. Mom went Opilio fishing with them once. Both her and Dad almost died."_

"How do you know this?" Brian whispered. Kelly glanced at the window where Edgar stood framed and gave him a little wave as she snatched the ball from Brian's grasp. Jogging away a few paces, she waited until their father's back was turned before continuing.

"_I'll show you after dinner tonight."_ Throwing the football back to Brian in a perfect spiral, Kelly refused to say any more about the subject.

"_It's all right here. Video, personal letters, letters from Mom's work, even the letter she wrote Dad and the crew after nearly crashing into Captain Phil's boat."_ Kelly stood in a pool of pale moonlight later that night. She and her brothers were in the attic late that night, gathered around two filing boxes. Brian took one box while Christopher took the other and Kelly sat facing them. As her brothers read through the documents, Kelly absently tapped her fingers against her thigh in a soothing melody. Christopher's signed musings brought her from her thoughts.

"_Why would they hide this from us? I mean, they told us about pretty much everything else, right? And we've seen the old re-runs of the season when Mom was greenhorn."_ Brian's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Kelly's self-conscious shrug.

"_How long have you known about this stuff?"_

"_Since that night the stoned homeless man tried breaking in. Remember that, Brian? We were playing hide and seek up here when we were supposed to be sleeping. You were over at Danny's house, Chris. Anyway, I had gotten thirsty so I went to ask Dad for some water. But when I got to the bottom of the stairs, the guy broke the window and grabbed me…"_

Christopher moved around to hug Kelly in a single armed embrace as Brian sat there in grimfaced remembrance of the night, continuing for Kelly as she rested her cheek on Christopher's shoulder.

"_I came downstairs as fast as I could when I heard you scream, but Dad told me to hide. I hid around the corner, peeking through the banister railing. The guy was waving around a knife, demanding Mom give him all the money we had in the house. Dad just came out of nowhere with Mom's work gun and shot the stoner."_ Kelly sniffled into Christopher's shoulder and Brian's face softened into an apologetic expression.

"So that's why you stopped speaking…and kept waking up screaming during every thunderstorm, and all those nightmares…?" Christopher whispered softly in the thick, heavy silence.

"C'mon, man…she was six! Even I was bawling like a baby by the time Dad pulled out Mom's gun." Christopher grimaced apologetically at Brian's softly whispered chastise and murmured a 'sorry'. Shifting as his long legs started to go numb, Brian looked back to the handwritten letter he held; beginning to understand the message, he idly rubbed the back of his neck as he reread the letter. Kelly sniffled and, wiping her tears, pulled out a tattered composition notebook; finding the page with her favorite letter, she held it open on her lap as she scanned it again in the pale moonlight. Resorting to the comforting silence of sign language, Brian redirected their conversation back to the reason for being in the attic.

"_Okay,_ _so Dad and Mom almost died a couple times that season. But that's a risk that all fishermen take, right? I bet Poppa Hansen didn't object to Dad going out fishing."_

"_It was different for Poppa Hansen, I think. I bet he didn't see any other future for Dad, Uncle Sig and Uncle Norman. He probably __**wanted**__ them to keep the family boat fishing. But with us it's different. Dad wants us to go to college and find jobs other than crab fishing. It's one thing to go salmon tendering for the summer when we're fifteen and seventeen, but something else to become life-long crab fishermen."_

The gloom across the attic brightened as the trap door rose and the light was momentarily blocked as Edgar climbed up to join his sons and daughter. A faint smile eased the worry etched on his face.

"Hey, there you are. Your mom thought you might be up here. Now I owe her ten bucks." Settling down next to Kelly, Edgar wiped away her tears as Brian cocked an eyebrow. He laughed and gestured towards the back yard, "I said you'd be hiding in the tree house I built the summer before your tenth birthday."

Smiling as he noticed Ashton's old notebook in open Kelly's lap, Edgar gently pulled it over to his lap and closed it. The spine was bound together with electrical tape and the edges of the paper starting to turn yellow with age. He sat there, fondly staring at the once black and white cover. Opening it again, the notebook easily flipped to a much-read page with fading ink. The four sat in silence while Edgar read the letter he committed to memory many years ago, a faint yet sad smile on his face as he touched the pages gently. Kissing Kelly on the top of her golden hair as she snuggled close to his side, Edgar continued softly.

"I should have guessed you three would be hiding out up here. It's where Mom and I found you and Brian the morning after the break in. I was still wired from the crazy Opilio season and doing all the promotion stuff with Sig." Edgar paused as the memory came back to him, his features twisting into a pained expression.

"I won't ever forget the look on your faces after…after I shot that man. Kel, you wouldn't let me or your Mom near you. You met Brian halfway down the stairs and seeing you holding each other, sobbing…it killed me. I thought, 'Brian's too young to be comforting his sister…I should be doing that.'" Brian grimaced as he saw the tears glinting down his father's cheeks before they were hastily wiped and blinked away. Edgar took a shaky breath, swallowing hard, and cleared his throat. As his father composed himself, Brian interjected.

"I was _eight,_ Dad, a little kid. We were overwhelmed, freaked out. We didn't know what to expect. But for weeks after that Kelly wouldn't leave your side. I remember keeping pretty close to you too." Edgar's eyes shone as he struggled to accept Brian's explanation. His gaze returned to the notebook in his lap, voice cracking when he spoke again.

"I – I promised myself then that none of you would step foot onto the boat for crab fishing. Ever. If I can't even keep my kids safe in their own home, then how can I keep you safe on a pitching, rolling boat? If I loose you or your Mom…"

Kelly slid a hand into Edgar's as another tear escaped his strong façade, and he met her gaze. She saw the pain, mingled with guilt, and she wrapped her arms around his chest.

"But you saved us, you saved us Daddy. You did the best you could to protect us. That's all we ask for…your best." Hugging Kelly close, Edgar rested his cheek against the top of her head and squeezed his eyes closed against the tears that overwhelmed him. His body shook as ten years of pent up self-depreciation released itself. An awkward moment passed before his tears dried and he loosened his grip around Kelly's shoulders. Drying his eyes, he attempted a weak smile, to which Christopher shrugged a narrow shoulder with an equally weak smile.

A shy grimace creased Brian's features as he hesitantly attempted humor.

"I guess now's a bad time to ask you to take me fishing with you?" Christopher bit back a laugh as Kelly glared at her elder brother, flashing him the sign for 'asshole'.

Stunned, it took Edgar a couple seconds to realize Brian was joking. Shaking his head, he sighed with a slightly more genuine smile.

"What? Why? That's what I don't get. Of all things you could do with your life, why _crab fish?_ I know you've read the letters, heard the stories, and saw the footage," Edgar held up the notebook, finger marking the page with Ashton's letter, and gestured to the boxes in front of them with raised brows. "But you _still_ want to fish the Bering Sea? You're crazier than me, Sig and Norman _combined_!"

Laughter filled the attic and the awkward tension eased; Edgar sighed again and returned the notebook to the box. Once again meeting their eyes, he sobered.

"Seriously, though. It's just not safe out there. It's not that I don't trust you guys; it's just…nasty shit happens out there. I almost lost your mom out there…I don't want to risk loosing any of you either." Glancing down at his watch, his fatigue finally caught up with him. It showed on his face as he looked back up to his three teenage kids.

"It's way past time we got to bed. School starts on Tuesday, and Brian still has to get his school crap between now and then." As Brian started to protest, Edgar pointed a finger at his eldest son with a firm look. Try as he might, he couldn't keep a laugh from his voice nor a smile from the corners of his lips.

"Dude, you only have two days to get your school shit together. And no, you _cannot_ go to Wal-Mart tonight. It's past midnight and way past time you three were in bed. Brian, I don't _care_ if it's open 24 hours; that would be called _cheating_. Besides, I'm not letting you drive the car without a driver's license. I'll take you first thing in the morning." Rising, he followed Kelly and Christopher down into the hallway. Brian followed behind him and shut the door. The twins disappeared into their rooms while Edgar halted Brian with a hand on his shoulder.

"I meant what I said about not wanting you to go crabbing. It's one thing being away from home and being unable to chew your ass out for getting into a fight. But on the Bering Sea, it's some nasty shit out there. Even in the summer; you found that out the hard way." Nodding towards the master bedroom, Edgar narrowed his eyes as he continued.

"Maybe when you're married and have kids of your own you'll understand what I'm getting at, but…hell, I don't know. To watch your own son risk his life for money seems pretty insane. I just don't understand it. I have no idea how _my_ dad did it." Brian followed Edgar's gaze down the hallway, an uncertain frown on his face. Turning back to his father, Brian sighed.

"Will you at least think about it?" Scrubbing a hand over his face, Edgar nodded silently. At Brian's insistent look, he spread his hands and raised his shoulders in a defensive shrug.

"Yes, fine! I'll think about it! I promise. Now go to bed, damn it." Brian grinned, trying to keep the triumph from shining in his eyes as he quietly walked down the hall to the room he shared with Christopher. Flipping out the hallway light, Edgar shook his head in the darkness as he made his way into the master bedroom and lay down beside Ashton. She murmured incoherently in her sleep, but remained asleep. He gently kissed the top of her head and lay there in the darkness; worry gnawing his tired mind until sleep finally overcame him.

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**A/N: This sequal was a long time coming and I toyed with at least two variations of this story. I may end up blending the two variations in a later chapter. Ya never know! Anyways, as with all my fan fics, I do not own nor claim to own any actual people, places, entities, and/or things not my own. Ashton, Edgar's kids and Norman's neighbor are all my own creation, all others in this chapter are used with creative licsence. Conversations in italics are actually held in American Sign Language. Reviews and constructive criticms are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!**

Copyright Alissa Franko 2010


	2. Graduation, Then What?

Sliding into the desk in the back of the classroom, Brian's leg bounced nervously as he waited for the class to begin. The beige of his fresh cast appeared as bleak as his future aboard the _Northwestern_. He turned his gaze from the plaster bearing three autographs from his best friends to the rainy view outside and soon lost himself in memories of the past summer.

A streak of honey-gold hair flashed past the window as the late bell began it's ominous ringing and Brian grinned. Sliding in the door as the last note faded, the girl's face was flush with embarrassment. The teacher glared at her over his wire-framed glasses and she slunk to the seat next to Brian.

"You'll be in your seat _before_ the late bell tomorrow, right Miss Henthorn?" Evelyn nodded her head as she steadied her breathing, grinning at Brian by way of greeting.

"Yes sir, Mr. Jetton." With a slight nod of acceptance and a slight smile, Mr. Jetton began his first senior English class of the semester. Class rules and expectations took the first half hour; picking up a stack of syllabi from the edge of his desk, Mr. Jetton passed around the packets before describing the assignments planned for the semester. Twenty minutes later, right before the bell rang, he paused and set his syllabus on the desk.

"Read over the syllabus tonight, and make sure you read all of it! Tomorrow, you _will_ have a quiz on what you've read. Oh, by the way, welcome back!" As the bell rang, the students grabbed their bags and jackets. Brian waited by the door for Evelyn and when she reached him, held her hand as they made their way to the next class. Each class progressed in a similar fashion, minus the tardiness. By lunch, both were caught up on the other's summer vacations.

As they made their way through the lunch line, the conversation moved on to plans for after graduation. Joining two other classmates, a boy with curly brown hair sitting in a custom made wheelchair and a girl with a long, black braid and drumsticks, Brian grinned as he greeted them in their ritual corner of the cafeteria.

"Hey Nolan, Dusty. Did either of you get homework yet?" Nolan shook his head with a grin while Dusty nodded, a bit glumly. Drumming a rhythm on the edge of the table, she glared at the half-empty tray before her. Brian's brows rose in silent question, and Dusty huffed as she slid her drumsticks back into one of many pants pockets.

"In band we got three songs to review for the first concert. And that's not the worst part. Oh, no…the worst part is the fact that there are _no_ guitars _anywhere_ in the songs. So of course I'm going to have to play a totally different instrument for the first two songs…Thankfully, I'm able to play the drums in the third song…" She trailed off as her three friends stared blankly in response to her rant. Brian cleared his throat in the awkward silence.

"But don't you play five instruments…" Dusty shot him a dirty glare while Nolan and Evelyn shared a grin. After a moment of glaring, Dusty provided the answer to Brian's unfinished question.

"She has me playing the _violin…_it was either violin or not play at all. I _hate_ the violin. And anyway, the first two songs were originally written without the violin. They were originally meant for the fiddle, which is something totally different. I swear…she did this just to piss me off."

"Didn't you point this out Mrs. Fenwick? The violin fiddle difference, I mean?" Evelyn's question seemed to deflate the fire in Dusty's rantings and the teen sighed heavily.

"Yes, but she went all high and mighty and was like '_I'm_ the professional musician here, not you young lady.' I swear…" Dark eyes flicked over to where a teacher was slowly winding her way through the crowded lunchroom and she trailed off. With the fight momentarily leaving a bad taste in her mouth, Dusty took a swig of Dr. Pepper and turned her attention to Brian.

"So, did your dad give you an answer yet? About this January, I mean?" Brian shook his head and took a bite of pizza. Taking his time, he explained how Edgar had adamantly refused to allow him on the boat come January. When the bell signaled the end of the lunch period, Brian and his friends had something resembling a plan for getting the seventeen year old onto the _Northwestern_ for the January Opilio season.

The rest of the day dragged by in an agonizing crawl for Brian. His leg continually bounced in eager anticipation, and Evelyn kept reaching across the aisle to lightly touch his knee. Finally, the last bell of the day rang and Brian shoved his books and notebook into his bag; waiting long enough for Evelyn to pack her things, Brian all but ran out the door and into the drizzly afternoon.

They met Nolan, Dusty and the twins at the public bus stop just up the road from the high school. During the bus ride home, his mind buzzed with all he'd learned since returning from salmon tendering. His father's late night admission of fear of loosing his family unsettled the teen, although it hardened his resolve to prove his capability of becoming a successful commercial crab fisherman. Lost in thought, he jumped when Evelyn's hand entwined with his. At her questioning glance, he shook his head and smiled disarmingly. He kissed her lips with a murmured 'I'm fine.'

Kelly signaled the bus to stop, and the three Hansens climbed off with Evelyn and Dusty following right behind. Waiting for the bus driver to lower the ramp so Nolan could join his friends, Brian brought his siblings up to date on the plan he and his friends had formulated earlier in the day. Walking home, the six teens dissected the plan and discussed ways for strengthening it until they arrived at something better than originally designed. By the time the Hansens reached their house, Evelyn, Nolan and Dusty had broken off and disappeared into their own homes. Pausing on the sidewalk in front of their house, Brian faced his brother and sister with a stern look.

"Remember, the plan stays between the six of us. _Nobody_ is to hear about this, and I mean _nobody_. Not even Colin is to hear about it, understand, Kelly?" The twins nodded, Kelly crossing her heart with her pinkie. Satisfied with the promises he knew he didn't need, Brian led the way up the walk, past their father's truck and into the house.

Although Edgar had left for Alaska the day before, they silently left their wet shoes by the front door and padded up the carpeted stairs to shed their backpacks before meeting up in the kitchen for a quick raid of the refrigerator. After Kelly checked the answering machine, they made cold sandwiches before retreating back to Brian and Christopher's room to begin their homework while they munched.

"I don't know, Brian. It's not even Thanksgiving yet. I need more time to think about it." Edgar's tired voice sounded thin and hollow over the landline connection. Brian bit back an impatient response but his father heard the sigh. "Look, can we talk about this when I get home? I promise I'll have an answer for you then." Edgar added.

"Yeah, sure…Um, Kelly wants to talk to you. Yeah, love you too." Handing the phone to his sister, Brian slouched in his chair and stared down at his algebra homework. Missing Kelly's smirk, he rolled his eyes at her response. "No, it's more like he's sulking. Haha. Dad…I saw the weather reports for the next week. It's gonna get ugly out there." She winced as her father's rough laugh rasped in her ear. She glanced at Brian as he suddenly appeared at her shoulder to hear Edgar's response.

"It's already ugly out here, Princess. Don't worry about us, we'll be fine." Brian rolled his eyes at Edgar's machoism and returned to his homework.

"I'm serious Dad. You think it's ugly now, but it's gonna get worse. Please, just be careful out there." She heard muffled voices before Edgar returned to the line with promises of continued vigilance.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I gotta get back to work. I love you."

"Okay, love you too." A click was followed by a monotone dial tone and Kelly slowly lowered the phone from her ear. Replacing it on the stand, she crossed the kitchen and pulled out the chair to join Brian. She stared at the blank spiral notebook in front of her a moment before taking her pencil and began her English assignment.

"Kel, what –?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Meeting his sister's eye, Brian silently nodded. They held each other's gaze for a brief second before Kelly broke eye contact; returning to their homework, the siblings worked in silence. Hardly thirty seconds passed before Kelly answered her brother's unspoken question.

"I mean, if he wants to just laugh off something as serious as the storms heading their way then _fine_. Who am _I_ to try and ask him to be careful…?" Brian studied her profile, struggling to find the answers he wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

"I know. But he's always been like that…and he always will. Don't be mad at him because he laughed you off…He probably doesn't know any other way to react." Faint ticking from the foyer clock and the scratching of pencil on paper filled the silence as Kelly ignored him. His eyes narrowed as a sudden thought came to him.

"This week's weather isn't the only thing bugging you, is it?" Kelly kept her eyes on her work, but Brian caught the subtle narrowing of her eyes and thinning of her lips and knew he'd hit his mark.

"What's really bugging you, Ducky? C'mon…. you can talk to me." Pausing, he hesitated only a split second before pressing on. "It's Colin, isn't it? I saw the look he gave you on the way to fifth –."

"Fuck off Brian! You don't know shit about anything! All you're worried about is going off and fishing with Dad – you don't have the _time_ to be worried, or _care,_ about anything else!" Slamming her pencil down with enough force to snap it, Kelly exploded at her brother. She missed the look of shock and hurt written on Brian's face through the tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Without waiting for a response, she stormed up the stairs and down the hallway, slamming her bedroom door behind her and buried her face in the pillows.

Sobbing, she barely heard Brian's soft knocking. When he poked his head inside with a murmured "Ducky?", she tossed a threadbare plush duck in his direction.

"Go away." Brian ignored her weak protest and paused to pick up the duck on his way across the room. Stretching his legs out before him, the tall teen settled on the floor by her headboard. His back rested against the wall and he focused his gaze on the duck as he straightened the faded pink bow. Faded yellow fuzzy fabric was patched with pastel colored squares and Brian smiled in fond memory.

"I vaguely remember picking this out for you when you were born. Dad says I said something like, 'Gotta get ducky for my Ducky.' Uncle Norman laughed when Dad tried to explain that you weren't a duck, but my baby sister. I didn't get it until I saw you. Uncle Norman about died with laughter when I explained to the nurse that I had to give the toy to my sister who wasn't a duck."

Kelly sniffled and turned to face Brian, fighting a smile. Although she'd heard the story countless times it was one of her favorites, and she knew Brian chose to tell it to cheer her up. Accepting the duck from him, she held it close to her chest with a faint smile. The smile faded as her thoughts shifted to other matters.

"Colin broke up with me today. He thought if I…if I loved him I would…you know…but I didn't so he said I didn't love him. He tried to make me, but I refused." At the dark look on Brian's face, Kelly stopped talking and the silence that fell was broken after a while by the muted sounds of the front door opening and closing. Christopher's angry voice drifted up the hallway and Brian's furious look turned to displeased confusion. He looked up to the doorway as his brother dropped his football gear in the hallway before shutting Kelly's door behind him.

Sitting with his back against the door, Christopher hugged his knees to his chest and stared sullenly at a spot on the beige carpet. His right eye was swollen in a dark purplish bruise and a nasty cut was held together with several stitches.

"What the fuck happened to you, Chris?" Christopher's mouth pulled up into a sneering scowl as he breathed a mocking laugh.

"Colin's what happened. He tried bragging about how he was gonna make Kelly out to be a whore…and I flipped. We were running laps at practice. I just spun around and jumped the bastard. Coach Svensen let us beat the shit out of each other for a full two or three minutes before pulling us apart."

"Who won?"

"Me."

"Good for you."

Chris' blue-gray eyes flickered to his siblings and he shared a wan grin with Brian; Kelly had moved to a sitting position during his explanation and she forced a small smile at the proud look her brothers shared. When her twin looked to her, her fingertips touched her lower lip briefly before pulling out in the sign for 'thank you'. Christopher nodded silently in response.

"Both me and Colin got kicked off the team for fighting, but he go suspended for what he said. Coach gave me a warning though, then he called Mom. Mom wanted to call Dad, but I managed to talk her out of it."

"Speaking of Dad, he called today. I think he's about to cave and let me go with them in January…" Brian watched with a sad smile as Christopher's head rolling back against the door mirrored Kelly's exasperated sigh.

"I know in the end it's Uncle Sig's decision whether or not I go out with them, but Dad definitely has a say in it too." Kelly met Brian's eye with a sad look in her gaze.

"Don't _we_ have a say? I mean…you're _our_ brother." The conversation dropped and a silence descended for a while before a soft knock sounded at the door. Christopher got up and sat on the edge of the bed as Ashton poked her head in the door. Studying her teenagers' grim expression, she cocked a head towards the stairs.

"Dinner'll be ready in fifteen minutes. Kelly, Brian, I need you to move your homework from the table and one of you to set it please." Accepting her children's nods, she partially closed the door as she went back down to the kitchen and the meal she was preparing.

Ashton watched her children move about the kitchen in silence as they cleared and set the table. When Brian brought the food to the table and Christopher began dishing, she caught herself scrutinizing them and managed to fix a neutral look on her face before they looked over at her. During the meal, she silently watched as they made small talk about school, homework and Brian's upcoming graduation in December. Ten minutes into the meal, she watched her children's reaction as she spoke.

"I spoke to Sig while I was making dinner. He said if Nick's wife isn't better by the time they head out for Opilio, he's going to ask Nick to stay home with her. If that happens, he said there would be a spot open until Nick gets back. Sig asked if you were still interested, Brian, and suggested you get your gear together if you were."

Ashton watched as Brian exchanged a meaningful look with his siblings and wondered what the message that single look contained. The look was gone in an instant, but a chill settled in Ashton's belly that she couldn't shake; she suppressed a shudder as a morbid thought crossed her mind.

_It's almost like they were saying goodbye to Brian, almost as if they knew he wouldn't be coming back home._

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**A/N: This chapter was a long time coming. It was one of those difficult ones that I'm not quite sure I like, but it'll suffice for now I think. Like all my other stories, all real people, places, things, entities, events, etc, belong to their original owners/creators/themselves. All others belong to me. Thanks again for reading, and as usual constructive criticsm and reviews are most welcome and appreciated! **

Copyright Alissa Franko 2010


	3. The Tempest's Touch

Lying in the darkness of his room, Evelyn at his side, Brian stared at the ceiling. He felt her roll to her side and turned to face her as she rested a hand on his bare chest. Heart fluttering at her touch, he half smiled into the dark; knowing she couldn't see the smile, he smoothed back a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her warm brow.

"You're leaving first thing in the morning." Evelyn's words hung in the air, a statement of the truth they both knew. Not knowing what else to say, Brian confirmed with a soft 'ja'. Evelyn snuggled close and they lay in silence a while, taking comfort in their closeness. It would be the last night they would have together for three months.

"I love you, Evelyn." He felt her lips curve up into a smile against his shoulder.

"I know. I love you too."

Drifting off to sleep, they awoke to the insistent beeping of Brian's alarm clock. The sound came all to soon, and the couple took their time dressing. With filled backpack slung over a shoulder and a stuffed duffle bag in hand, he led the way downstairs and paused long enough to deposit his bags in the foyer. Silently moving into the kitchen, he reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a half filled jug of milk. Filling the two glasses Evelyn held ready, he put the milk away and chugged his. Both teens put their empty glasses into the dishwasher and grabbed a couple pieces of fruit from the table before heading to the car.

Brian's bags were put in the back seat before they climbed into Evelyn's car. The drive down to airport was silent. Pulling to a stop, they stared out the front window a moment before Brian heaved a sigh. Turning to Evelyn, he smiled and kissed her. Pulling away, he told her the only thing he knew to say:

"I love you." Evelyn smiled and squeezed his hand.

"I love you too. Now you'd better go before your dad changes his mind."

Stepping out into the drizzly morning, Brian waved goodbye to Evelyn before disappearing inside and made a beeline for the gate. Hours later, he found himself safely on the snowy island.

Walking through the deserted airport, his eager energy slowly turned anxious. As he left the small airport, his spotted his grimfaced father standing on the curb smoking a cigarette. Edgar's best friend Matt Bradley waited behind the wheel of the truck. Brian approached the truck, shifting the weight of his duffle bag to his left hand as he stopped beside Edgar. The deckboss snuffed out the cigarette before motioning to the truck's snowy bed.

"Toss 'em in. You got everything you need? Cuz when we get to the boat you'll be shit out of luck."

"Yeah, I got it all a month before I left Seattle." Brian responded as he shut his door and buckled. Edgar grunted absently as Matt started the truck and a silence descended on the drive back to the docks. The silence continued as they boarded the boat and Edgar showed his son where to stow his gear.

Leaning against the doorframe, Edgar watched Brian sling his bags onto the bunk above his father's. When the teen turned to him, Edgar jerked his head back towards the galley.

"You can unpack later. Right now Sig needs to see you in the wheelhouse. When he's done with you, the bait needs to be put away and then we need to show you the ropes." He suppressed a small smile as Brian nodded and brushed past him; watching his son disappear up into the wheelhouse Edgar swallowed an uneasy feeling that was beginning to rise up from the bottom of his gut. _I'm just being a paranoid dad, that's all…_he thought.

After Sig and Brian finished up the paperwork that the teen needed to fill out and sign, Brian took to the deck and helped load the freezers with frozen bait. Early evening found him standing beside Matt, helping the seasoned fisherman ready and secure the waiting pots to the boat's crane so Norman could swing them across the deck. Jake, standing ready atop the stack, would quickly remove the pots and secure them to their neighbors. With Brian's help, the pile of pots was steadily reduced so that by the early hours of the morning the last of the gear was stowed. The crew was then allowed a couple hours of sleep before the load of groceries arrived.

When the groceries arrived, Brian neatly stacked the dry goods Matt passed him into the bow's storage space beyond Edgar's stateroom. The greenhorn resented Matt's cool attitude towards him even though the man was his godfather. After storing their share of the groceries, they came up onto the deck in time to watch the Coast Guard begin their inspections and drills. Shortly after the Coast Guard left, the state fish and game officials arrived. All felt Ashton's absence, but Brian wondered at the look Edgar and Jake shared. The crew went through the motions with resigned impatience; Brian's youthful enthusiasm humored both agencies, much to Edgar's annoyance.

As the Fish and Game officials disappeared, Sig pulled on his jacket and left the boat alone. Brian looked to Norman in confusion, and the quiet man shook his head.

"He's going to the graveyard above the harbor." Picking up his coffee mug, he started up the wheelhouse stairs with Brian on his heels. Settling into the captain's chair, he continued. "He's been doing that for years now, after Phil and then Keith Colburn died. Says the air clears his head, but I doubt it." Eyes flicking to Brian's face, Norman shook his head with a small smile.

"Brian, don't worry about him. He'll be back, we'll get the crab, and we'll head home. That's how it's been for years." Despite his uncle's spoken confidence, Brian noticed the subtle knock on the wooden dash. Swallowing his doubt, he nodded and forced a smile.

"Sure, if you say so."

"I do say so." Norman's eyes flickered to his nephew, daring him to say another word now that he'd firmly closed the subject to debate. Even after fourteen years of Sig's habitual walk in the graveyard, Norman was still getting used to it. A small part of him was relieved Brian wanted the fishing lifestyle, for it meant Sig could get serious about finishing Jake's training. _The sooner Jake takes the helm, the sooner Sig can retire and get off the damn boat. We've done well for all his creepy walks, but how long will that last?_ His knuckles rapped the wooden paneling a little harder now and had Brian's head turning back as he descended the stairs.

Hearing the knocking, he swallowed his question at the look on Norman's face. Going into the stateroom he would share with his father, he unpacked his bags and by the time he stowed his bags, Sig was back and told the crew to cast off.

Sitting in the wheelhouse, Sig and Edgar listened to the weather reports with grim faces. Edgar's gaze out the window was met with swirling snow. Five days into the season, the weather had deteriorated rapidly. The crew had worked three more days in increasingly nasty winter conditions. They barely made their offload date two days later, but instead of relief, Sig was in a mood as ugly as the weather.

Now, Sig had to decide to either return to the grounds, or sit out the worst of the storm. He'd called his brothers in for advice, but one said go and the other said stay. When he began groaning with nearly each exhale, Norman disappeared downstairs and left Edgar to brave Sig's self-debate.

_He's gotten too used to the damn cameras. It's disturbing as hell to hear what's going on inside his head. I don't need to hear this shit,_ Edgar thought.

"Look, either we stay or we go. I don't really _care_ what you decide, but you're going to have to decide now." Sig heaved a decisive sigh at his youngest brother's statement and nodded. Sucking deeply on his cigarette, Sig snuffed the butt out and smoke streamed out his nostrils and mouth.

"Get Jake and Brian to help you cast off. _Fuck_ this weather…we're going fishing."

Edgar called a 'roger' over his shoulder as he descended the stairs, leaving Sig to stare at the silhouette of a gull perched on the snow shrouded bow. As the bird turned a beady eye to the wheelhouse, the skipper ran a hand over an arm to smooth the gooseflesh. _It looks like the one I pointed out to that camera guy after Phil died. What are you trying to tell me, man?_

Determined to keep the food in his gut, Brian repeated the grueling process of grinding the frozen and fresh fish into an oily, smelly mixture. After two minutes of shoveling the mixture into the stained but sturdy plastic while being doused with frigid spray, the chill in his bones deepened. The muscles in his jaws tightened as he bit back a grimace from the jarring impact of slamming a hip into the side of the sorting table on his way to the waiting pot; swinging the bait in first, he quickly and painfully hauled himself in after it. Quick movements of stiff wrists left the bait swinging with the violent motions of the boat as Brian slid out.

Boots barely met the icy deck when a wave snuck along the starboard rail and took the crew's feet from underneath them. Hearts hammering and muscles screaming, they scrambled to regain precarious footing. Accepting Edgar's help standing, Brian brushed his father's concerned look aside. When Edgar's blue-gloved fingers came away from the greenhorn's stinging cheek with dark blood and a questioning look, Brian spat out a response.

"I'm _fine_ Dad! It's _nothing_!"

Edgar shrugged and let it slide, turning back to make a quick inspection of the pot and launcher. Satisfied neither was damaged, they dumped the ready pot overboard. A momentary feeling of weightlessness preceded by Sig's verbal warning had them scrambling for cover as white foam engulfed the deck.

Slamming through the wave, the _Northwestern_ shuddered with the force of the impact. Cursing vehemently, Sig grit his teeth as his crew struggled to set the pots in the increasingly nasty weather. Glancing over his right shoulder, he strained to catch a glimpse of any waves through the haze of snow. With a quick scan of the deck below, a momentary sensation of relief hit the skipper as he counted the remaining pots on board.

As Sig turned back to the waves before him, a wave to the starboard bow knocked the skipper from his chair and sent him sprawling on the wheelhouse floor. A heartbeat later, he groaned and pushed himself upright. Pressing a shaking hand to his forehead, he winced as he struggled to his feet. Ears ringing and head smarting, he scrambled back into his chair and fought off waves of nausea as the boat crashed through yet another whitecap.

He grabbed the wildly swinging handset and tried slamming it back in place overhead. Sweat beaded on his pale forehead as he concentrated on getting to safety as quickly as possible. He missed the smear of red left behind on the white handset's plastic. Hearing voices below, Sig sighed with relief. His relief was cut short when he crashed through the next wave and alarms began to sound.

Below, Edgar led Brian into the engine room as Jake passed a bag of frozen peas to Matt before hurrying up into the wheelhouse to check on Sig; after several unsuccessful attempts to raise the skipper on the wheelhouse phone, the crew's anxiety was quickly on the rise. Matt, with one hand pressing the bag of peas to his throbbing temple, helped Norman attempt to straighten the galley's mess.

"We shouldn't have let Brian stay on…" Matt began to grumble irritably before he caught Norman's dark glare.

"Just shut up, Matt. It wasn't his fault the storm hit when it did. So just shut up and help me pick up." Fighting back pained grimaces as he bent over to pick up the DVDs thrown from their shelves, Norman kept a hand to the wall as the boat continued to pitch violently. The engine room door slamming open caused both men to flinch, and Matt swore as a pale-faced Brian disappeared into the stateroom leading to the front bulkhead. Returning with an armload of rags, he paused to lean against the doorjamb as the boat rolled dangerously to port. All three men grunted as the boat shuddered around them and returned to a more upright position. Both Matt and Norman grimaced as Brian's head cracked against the door frame; Edgar's voice roared above the engine's protesting and the teen ignored the pain searing through his temple as he staggered back to the engine room.

With the violent motion of the waves, Brian's heart hammered against his chest as he struggled against his rising panic to help Edgar keep the master and auxiliary engines from failing. The pain in his temple and hip faded to a dull throb as he focused his attention on the gauges and equipment. After a while, Norman came down to help make repairs. Time and again, Brian would retrieve some tool for Norman or Edgar, or helped them to make repairs when a third set of hands or smaller body was needed.

He flinched as Sig's unexpected shadow fell over him and Edgar shot a dirty glare at his son; but one look at his eldest brother made Edgar rise and, pressing the welder into Brian's arms, the deckboss started following Sig to the galley.

"Finish up with that patch, then keep an eye on the engine!" Edgar yelled over his shoulder before disappearing up the ladder. Brian shifted to resume welding the patch over a leaking pipe. By the time the patch was completed a minute later, his arms were dotted with spark burns and his sweats were soaked through with seawater. Flipping up the face shield, the corner of his mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile at Norman's nodded approval as the older man surveyed his work. Restarting the pumps to begin removing some of the ankle deep water, Norman watched Brian's wide-eyed reaction relax.

"It'll hold. I'll send Matt down in a couple hours to see how you're holding up." Norman reached for the welding tools, gently pulling the face shield from his nephew's head to get his attention. Frowning at the drying trickle of blood running down Brian's cheek and neck from his temple, he gave a slight shake of his head before limping up the ladder.

Brian sat back on his knees and took several steadying breaths. Eyes closed, he forced himself to focus before turning his attention to monitoring the hastily patched repairs. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he grinned in relief as he realized the boat's pitch and roll had gradually lessened. As he focused his anxious attention to reading the fuel gauge, he glimpsed movement from the stairwell and looked up. Matt's faint grin greeted his panicked look; joining the greenhorn by the fuel tank, Matt shouted above the noise.

"Guess you're doing fine here. Edgar says to come up and get something to eat. Might wanna get that patched up too." Matt tapped a finger against the tender skin above the cut on Brian's temple. In the excitment, the teen had forgotten all about his injuries but now the pain and stiffness slammed down on him. Fighting to conceal the obvious, Brian merely nodded before heeding Matt's words.

As he watched his godson stiffly climb the ladder, Matt felt the kid's pain; his own pains, minimal as they were, had settled deep into his bones. Despite their shared pain and suffering, something still didn't feel right to the deckhand. The damage left behind by the storm only deepened his unease and he decided to voice his anxieties.

"Edgar, he's fine. We're fine, the boat's fine…and we didn't loose as much crab as we thought." Sig was sitting across the table from Norman, watching Edgar peer into the stateroom where Brian lay sleeping. Two days after the storm played havoc on the six-man crew, the _Northwestern_ was docked in Akutan after an offload and more substantial repairs. Brian's temple was stitched neatly with seven sutures, the burns on his forearms quickly fading to scars. Matt quietly joined his crewmates and skipper at the table with letters from home. Flipping through the envelopes, Matt's brows raised as a grin spread across his face.

"Runt's got a letter! From a 'Miss Evelyn Henthorn', I wonder what the little lady has to say…" Catching Edgar's look, Matt rolled his eyes exasperatedly and tossed the letter unopened onto the table.

"It's not like it'd be the first time you read a letter without permission," he reminded with a pout. Edgar shook his head as he joined his friends.

"Yeah, but that was different. That letter was for us, not my son." Scrubbing his face with grease stained hands, Edgar groaned into his palms. He peered over his fingertips at his brothers, his worry and anxiety showing in his brown eyes.

"How did our parents put up with us fishing? How did Dad _not_ have a heart attack or panic attack when the weather got nasty? Did they ever tell you that? Hell, how'd _Phil_ handle having _both_ his sons on deck during the nasty shit? How 'bout Jonathan?" A heavy silence settled over the six men, each unable to answer Edgar's questions. Edgar stared blankly over Norman's left shoulder as he continued quietly.

"How'd they do it? 'Cause this is driving me insane…" Another silence fell, broken by Matt clearing his throat softly. Rubbing the back of his stiff neck, he lifted a sore shoulder in hesitation.

"Spit it out Matt." Sig muttered. The skipper's head still hurt from where it met the edge of the chart table during the storm and, combined with the poor weather, it put him in a foul mood.

"I've got a bad feeling about Runt being here. I've had a bad feeling since he was hired. But until Norm's leg gets better…"

"My leg's fucking fine. You sure you didn't hit your head harder than you told the doctor?" Norman growled darkly without looking up from his coffee. Matt bit back a retort, and picked at the crumbs left on the table. Sig scratched absently at his beard and stared at the half opened door, behind which Brian still slept. Looking back at Matt, he shook his head.

"What do you want me to do? Cut him a check, send him packing, and hire on someone else? We already know how he works, we're used to him now. This weather isn't getting much better any time soon, you know." Rising, feeling his temper rise, Sig started for the wheelhouse. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, he glared at Matt.

"Hate to break it to you Matt, but I'd rather take my chances with Runt than with some idiot fresh off the docks." He disappeared up the stairs to consider his options, knowing that if he didn't find better weather and even better numbers, he might have bigger problems than a beat up nephew and uneasy crew.

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**A/N: I was unsure on how to proceed with this chapter, but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out. It has a lot going on in it, but hopefully it works. Reviews and constructive criticisms are most welcome and appreciated!**

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Copyright Alissa Franko 2010


	4. A Friend's Kindness

In the captain's chair, Jake grimaced as Edgar's enraged yells rebounded up the stairwell and Brian's answered equally loud and just as angry. Across the wheelhouse, Norman sat with an unreadable look while Matt, on the bench, bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. The _Northwestern_ was two days from port and with thirty minutes before they were to reach their northern most string, it was too late to head back. Matt flinched as Sig stormed up the stairs to pace the length of the wheelhouse while pulling on his cigarette with every other step. He paused only to snuff out the butt and relight a fresh stick before returning to his silent pace; the icy glare in his eyes seemingly froze everything they landed on.

Focusing his attention on guiding the boat to where Sig had indicated an hour ago, Jake missed the sudden silence filling the boat. He jumped as a hand descended on his shoulder, causing him to feather the throttle a little too hard through the on coming wave.

"Jesus, Jake, relax! I swear Sig's training you too hard." Jake gave a sheepish laugh as he relinquished the controls to Edgar. A hint of confusion crossed the younger man's bearded face, but seeing the expression on Edgar's face, decided it was better not to ask. Descending the stairs and joining the others in the galley, he saw Brian behind the table with a mug of coffee steaming between his hands. Catching his black glare, Jake's eyes shifted back up to the wheelhouse stairs, understanding dawning.

Silence hung heavy in the ready room while Jake watched Brian from the corner of his eye as they pulled on their rain gear. The tension on deck was thick and the crew spoke only when necessary. His eyebrows once again met his hairline at the sight of the skipper on deck. Meeting Sig at the rail, force of habit had the younger man reaching around for the picking hook as the buoys appeared in the darkness.

"No. Go work on bait with Brian. Just be ready to sort, 'cause we're hauling serious ass out here." Although the skipper wasn't watching Jake merely nodded and joined Brian at the bait table. Sig threw the hook and pulled in the slack line with a rusty, though experienced arm. Securing the picking hook while threading the shot through the block, he sent up a quick prayer of hope; full pots on this string and the next might mean an earlier offload date.

The pot cleared the rail and Jake nearly deflated from disappointment. He helped guide it to the launcher and shoved the coiled line inside once the crab and bait were cleared. The next three pots showed similarly poor numbers and each time Edgar ordered the pots stacked. By the fourth pot the numbers started picking up, though still not great.

The last pot of the string was in Sig's sight and when the buoys were within range, he launched the hook and hauled it in. Swearing darkly as the pot contained less than desired numbers, Sig crossed the deck while Norman secured the launcher's dogs.

"Edgar! Haul this next string then _you_ find the fucking crab!" Flipping the switch back down, Sig started away from the speaker. A thought occurred to him as he glanced at Jake and Brian readying the bait containers for the upcoming string. He went back and flipped the switch.

"And if _you_ can't find 'em…get Junior or even _Runt_ to find the goddamn crab!" Finally finished yelling at his brother, Sig flipped the switch again and slid along the icy deck into the sorting table. The skipper's temper deteriorated further and he stormed inside; shedding his dripping rain gear, he climbed the stairs to his stateroom and stumbled into his bunk. Rising long enough to strip, Sig climbed under the covers and fell into a dark oblivion.

Thousands of miles to the south-southeast, Ashton watched as her daughter hobbled into the kitchen on a pair of crutches. The Fish and Game warden winced as she saw Kelly's pained expression and lowered her gaze to the toast she was buttering.

"How are you feeling?" Glancing up, she saw Kelly's eyes narrow.

"Mom, the answer hasn't changed in the five minutes since the _last_ time you asked me that. I still hurt like holy fuck and no, the meds don't work."

"You have to take the meds in order for them to work." Ashton decided to ignore Kelly's swearing for the time; the ordeal the girl'd been forced to endure was bad enough. Being chastised for word choice was the least of Kelly's worries. Sitting at the table next to Kelly, she put the plate of halved toast between them and took one for herself. Silently, she ate the toast with measured bites and waited for her daughter to fill the silence.

After Ashton finished two pieces, Kelly reached out and slowly nibbled on one. She caught her mother's anxious glance toward the phone and sighed. They flinched as it suddenly rang. As Ashton jumped out of her chair to answer it, Kelly swallowed the last of her toast.

"Dad'll take care of him. If he doesn't Uncle Sig and Uncle Norm will. Chances are, though, _he's_ taking care of _them_."

"That's not what's worrying me…for once. It's how all four of them are dealing with…" Trailing off, Ashton winced apologetically before speaking into the phone.

"Hello? Oh, hi Nolan. I don't know, maybe now's not the best time to come over…" She caught Kelly's adamant nodding and sighed. "Alright. You want me to come pick you up or…Okay we'll see you in a little bit." Setting the phone back in the cradle, Ashton leaned against the counter and studied her daughter with a suspicious look.

"Why did I just tell Nolan he could come over…when you both know I'm going back to work in fifteen minutes?"

"Because you want someone to stay with me in case I get overly dramatic and it'll ease your worries because I'm with someone I trust." Although Kelly's words were cocky and sure, her voice ended with an unsure note. She tried not to let her mother see that she was trying to convince herself as much as she was the older woman.

Ashton sighed and reclaimed her chair next to Kelly. Taking a brace wrapped hand, she brushed a loose strand of hair from Kelly's bruised cheek with her other hand. The flinch broke Ashton's heart; the slight turning of the girl's head crushed the pieces to crumbs.

"Sweetie, you know Nolan would never hurt you. Neither would your father or brothers or uncles or any of the crew." Kelly's head nodded as she swallowed against the tears filling her eyes; eyes squeezing shut, three tears rolled down her cheeks.

_Diinnng-dong._ Kelly jumped and gasped in fright at the doorbell's sudden sound. Hastily she wiped the tears from her eyes and forced a smile for her mother's sake as the woman rose to answer the door. Kelly bit back a whimper of pain as her ribs and muscles protested to her rising.

As Ashton held the door so Nolan could wheel himself inside, Kelly met him in the kitchen's entryway. His smile faltered when he saw the bruises marring Kelly's face, neck and arms; his effort at continuing the smile failed to reach his eyes. Kelly's forced smile turned more genuine when she saw three peach hued roses in Nolan's lap.

He held up the flowers for Kelly, who leaned her weight on one crutch to accept the half opened blooms. She held them to her nose and inhaled deeply, eyes closing partially as she took in their fragrant scent. Flinching again as Ashton appeared at her side with a small vase of water, she gently tucked the flowers into the glass container. Her smile held something of her old self as she turned to thank Nolan.

"They're beautiful, thank you. From your poppa's garden, right?"

"Yeah. He and Nanna send their best. Nanna also packed a lunch for us too." Nolan jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the bag hanging off the back of his wheelchair. Wheeling into the kitchen, he waited while Ashton pulled the small Tupperware container of fruit filled Jell-o from the top of the bag followed by a container of casserole. Heating directions printed in Nolan's neat handwriting were taped to the casserole's lid.

"Nanna says that both can just go in the fridge until we're ready to eat. She offered to stop by later this afternoon if you wanted, Mrs. Hansen. I told her we'd be fine though." Kelly, Nolan and Ashton filed out into the living room, where Kelly gingerly settled herself onto the couch. Nolan wheeled over to the coffee table and paused as Ashton spoke.

"Nolan, you remember how to use the remotes, DVD player, and game systems. Kelly, please take your meds when you eat lunch. And if the pain gets too bad you call the doctor. Call me if you need –" She stopped short at Kelly's look and nodded with a sad smile. "Right. Um. I'll try to be home by 7 tonight. I love you, Kelly."

"Love you, Mom."

"Bye, Mrs. Hansen." The door closed behind Ashton and Kelly shared a look with Nolan. Mouthing a countdown from five, Kelly reached a silent 'one' when Ashton reappeared through the door muttering something about grabbing the wrong set of keys. Pausing as snickers registered in her frantic mind, she eyed her daughter and son's best friend; struggling to keep straight faces, Kelly and Nolan met each other's eyes and snorted laughter at Ashton's confusion.

"Ha, ha, Kelly. Very funny dear, now may I have my keys please? Thank you." Ashton shot her daughter a sarcastic look, but as she took her keys from Kelly, her expression softened as she kissed her forehead and whispered, "It's good to see you laughing again."

Laughing as Kelly signed _"Go to work, you'll be late"_, Ashton finally disappeared and the two teens heard her truck come to life. Silence fell as Nolan powered up the TV and DVD player. After putting in the movie Kelly wanted, he joined her at the couch and locked his wheels. He hefted himself out of his chair and onto the end of the couch.

Starting the movie, Nolan watched Kelly from the corner of his eye. _Colin's a fucking bastard. She's too good for him; I still can't believe that he convinced her to get back with him. Good thing Colin attacked Chris as he came up to help…makes it look better for Chris, even though he put Colin into a coma. Too bad Chris got the shit knocked out of him in the process,_ the teen thought. Casting another glance at his best friend's sister, his heart went heavy at the self-defeating set to her jaw.

_She's beating herself up for letting herself get caught up with Colin again…and then he had to go and rape her and abuse her. Now she probably thinks she's damaged and worthless._ Absently, his gaze went to his bone thin legs before back to the TV. When the movie ended, Nolan moved himself back to his wheelchair and opened the DVD player. Glancing over to Kelly as he removed a fresh DVD from its case, he smiled to help ease her haunted look.

"Do you remember when you were paralyzed?" Kelly's gaze dropped to her lap, wincing at her random question. Nolan paused with the new disk halfway to the open tray. Slowly, he put it in and closed the player before twisting his chair around and studying Kelly's bruised face.

"Yeah. Even after ten years I still have nightmares. My back hurts every now and again, especially on really cold and wet days, and I swear I'll feel an itch in my leg or foot once in a while." He looked away from Kelly, unsure why he was talking about it, and he shrugged. Forcing a smile, he turned back to Kelly.

"But I'm taking an auto-shop class this semester, and then I'm enrolling at the local junior college for auto design. Before you know it, I'll be designing all sorts of awesome cars and trucks. You know Mr. Duncan in the counselor's office? Well, his brother runs the Toyota dealership your uncle Norman once worked at. He said that they have a job opening as a mechanic." He ended his chattering as he realized he wasn't helping. Kelly met his eyes with a look that broke his heart.

"But getting paralyzed wasn't your fault. It was an accident. And you're really good with fixing things and making things. I screwed up when I agreed to go back to Colin. I let him hurt me…I let him…I should have never gone to that party. I was so stupid. And now he's dying and Chris is stuck in the hospital for the next three days. And it's my fault." Swallowing back her sobs, she flinched as Nolan wheeled across the room and gently took her hand. Releasing his light hold, he folded his hands in his lap.

"Yeah, you made a mistake when you went back to that fucktard and to his party. But you did the right thing when you called Chris to pick you up."

"But it was an hour after he…after he…" swallowing hard, Kelly forced herself to whisper the word, "…raped me. I locked myself in a bathroom to call Chris. But Colin broke in the door and started beating on me…I didn't even notice Chris came until he pulled him off me."

"Hey…" Nolan's gentle word brought her eyes up, though she couldn't hold his gaze for long. His gentle smile lingered in her mind as he continued,

"Hey, Colin paid for his cruelty. With any luck, he won't hurt anyone else. You and Chris'll get better, and me and your family and Dusty'll help you. And even if Colin gets better and tries hurting you again, I'll…I'll…I dunno. I'll punch him in the nuts or something."

The frustration in Nolan's eyes brought a genuine smile to Kelly's face. When she met his gaze again, she rubbed a hand over her arm to smooth the chills; suddenly shy, she gingerly lifted a shoulder. Nolan followed her glance to the clock on the mantle and started for the kitchen.

"You feeling hungry? I'll get some lunch started…or we can skip Nanna's casserole and get started on the Jell-o." His voice had risen once as he reached into the refrigerator to dig out the casserole and Jell-o.

"Jell-o sounds great right now." Kelly heard the plastic container thump against the island counter followed by sounds of the dishwasher being opened. A few moments later, Nolan returned with two bowls of the red jell-o studded with strawberries and bananas in his lap. He passed one to Kelly with a grin.

"It's a good thing your mom forgot to empty the dishwasher this morning. I don't think she'd like it if I had to go climbing to get the bowls." Kelly giggled at his comment, and the thought of her mom's reaction at finding Nolan hefting himself up onto the counters in search of clean bowls.

Nolan reclaimed his spot on the couch and started the new movie; pausing it long enough to return the bowls and spoons to the kitchen sink, he smiled to see Kelly curled up on the couch as he returned to the living room. He restarted the movie, and by it's end, Kelly had drifted off to a light slumber.

When Nanna poked her head in to check on them a couple hours later, she found both fast asleep, Nolan with a book opened in his lap. She stepped inside to pull a lap quilt over Kelly and kiss both on the forehead.

"Blessed dreams, my darlings," the elderly woman whispered in Irish Gaelic before settling herself into Edgar's recliner to pick up her knitting.

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**A/N: Sorry for my long absence. I've been working in Yellowstone for the past 6 months and, though I've completed chapters 4 and 5, I just haven't gotten around to posting them yet. This chapter is one of the more difficult ones I've had to write in a long while. But I'm fairly happy with the way it turned out. If there's any grammatical or spelling mistake, I'm sorry. Any and all reviews/constructive criticsm are most welcome, appreciated and encouraged. Thanks to those who've already posted feedback. Like in all of my stories, I do not own nor claim to own any real persons, places, things or entities. The only things I claim are my own creations like Ashton and her kids, as well as Nolan and his family. **

Copyright Alissa Franko 2010


	5. Going Home, Stepping Up

"FUCK! _Fuck_ that scrawny little bastard!" Edgar slammed a fist against the galley table, blind to the pain shooting up his arm from the blow. He sat at the galley table to discuss the call Sig had gotten from Ashton while the crew managed the offload. Despite spotty fishing and far worse weather, they managed to make their date with the processor. With one headache almost over with, Edgar and Sig could now focus on the one back home.

"Edgar, you can't change the fact that he's not going to be charged for raping Kelly. There's nothing you can do except go home and take care of her and Chris." Sagging at the mention of his other son, Edgar forced himself to unclench his fists.

"It's hard to believe Chris reacted like that. I mean, I'm proud of him for trying to protect his sister but…"

"It's that Norwegian temper. It'll get the best of us each and every time." Edgar laughed humorlessly into his cold coffee and grimaced at his eldest brother's assessment. Sig waited until Edgar's temper had cooled sufficiently before continuing.

"I'm serious about you going home. Kelly needs you there, and so does Chris and Ashton." He met Edgar's gaze before the younger brother glanced toward the deck hatch and back to his mug.

"What about Brian?"

"What about him? He'll be fine. Norman'll step up as deck boss and the kid'll get more responsibilities while you're gone. It's sooner than I'd _wanted_ for Runt, but we'll make do." The skipper watched the expressions play across Edgar's face as he digested Sig's words.

"Look, Ed. The kid's gotta learn these things sooner or later, and to be totally honest with you, he might learn them quicker without you breathing down his neck all the time. Give him a chance."

Edgar sneered, more to himself than to anyone, and glanced up to meet Sig's gaze without lifting his head. Still not comfortable with the idea of leaving his son, he reluctantly nodded.

"Fine. But you'll tell me if anything happens to him." Rising to pack up his belongings, Edgar didn't wait for Sig's answer. While Edgar packed, Sig returned to the wheelhouse to see about borrowing a truck in Dutch Harbor to drop Edgar off at the airport. Then he set the autopilot's way point for Dutch Harbor and left the floating processor at St. Paul behind him.

The following day saw Sig once again in the _Northwestern_'s wheelhouse, this time setting a course for the Bering Sea. Footsteps brought the skipper from his blank stare out the windows. A look over his shoulder found Norman leaning against the chart drawers with arms folded across his chest.

"I did what I had to. For Edgar _and_ his family. I did the right thing…didn't I?"

"Of course you did."

"Then why do I still have a bad feeling about all this?" When Norman didn't respond, Sig turned to look at him. The man stared out the window into the gloom, slowly shaking his head in a small movement. Eyes flickering over to Sig, the younger man shrugged.

"I don't know. Matt says his bad feeling from the beginning never went away, so don't be surprised to hear him complain about it again."

"You're not helping, Norm." Sig griped as he scrubbed a hand over his face. Norman's eyebrows rose as he shrugged noncommittally.

"What'd you expect? I'm a fisherman, not Oprah. What, you're not serious are you? Fine. It's gonna suck without Edgar out there and Brian stepping up. He doesn't know _nearly_ enough to be doing _half_ the things we need him to do. He's gonna bitch, the others are gonna bitch, _you're_ gonna bitch. Hell, _I'm _gonna bitch. But with Edgar gone, he's all we got and we need him." Norman fell silent again, leaving them both to their thoughts. After a moment he left Sig to himself and returned with two mugs of coffee.

Passing a mug to Sig, Norman settled into the co-captain's chair and watched as shifting shades of blues and purple obscured the stars. Raising his mug, he muttered darkly into the steaming liquid.

Sig's brows rose at the venom in Norman's words but he merely he nodded as he drank from his mug. Placing it on the dash, Sig sighed heavily.

"I hear you, brother."

* * *

"C'mon Runt! Move _faster_!" Norman's voice rose over the howling wind. Three straight days of working a four-man deck wore heavily at the already tired men. Short tempers were cut shorter and within the first thirty-six hours Norman had to prevent two scuffles from breaking out. Now, though, all lacked the energy to pick fights and Brian was struggling to keep up.

For the umpteenth time, the greenhorn's hip violently collided with the sorting table. Wincing at the impact, Matt muttered to Jake,

"Runt's gonna break something if he keeps that up." Jake merely grunted his agreement as Brian made it to the rail in time to help Jake guide the pot to the launcher. The older man absently noted the greenhorn's smoother movements with the pot as he started sorting the crab with Brian and Matt's help. Once sorted, he called up the count with a slight grin. His grin broadened at Sig's signal to reset, and both Matt and Norman laughed at his eager whoop.

"Junior, you _still_ get excited too easily and you've been doing this for _how_ long now?" Jake laughed at Matt's remark and shrugged his shoulders as the baited pot went overboard and Brian returned to continue shoving bait into stained containers. He managed to fill three or four containers before scuttling to the rail and helping Jake secure the pot.

Despite his father's physical absence and the crew's good natured banter, Brian continued to struggle with himself as his responsibilities grew. He was thrown into the next task almost before he mastered the one before it. The frenzied pace set by his uncle had his head spinning almost as fast as the tasks assigned to him. Their current good fishing seemed to be the only bright spot of his existence; although Sig and Edgar had told him about Kelly's assault and Christopher's hospitalization after going to their sister's rescue, Brian was left in the dark about his siblings' conditions or that of Colin, Kelly's comatose ex-boyfriend.

So the greenhorn did the only thing he knew to do: throw himself into his work and struggle to obtain the impossibly high standards he set himself. The others watched as their exhausted crewman pushed himself further past his endurance. Finally, as the string's last pot crashed back into the water, Sig called Brian into the wheelhouse.

"How much bait do you have stocked up?" Brian shrugged wearily at the question asked as soon as the skipper saw his head, trying to remember.

"Enough for the next string, maybe half of the one after that too. Definitely enough for the next string though. Why?" Wincing, Brian immediately regretted the question the moment it escaped his lips. Sig shot him a dark glare through the corner of slitted eyes. He caught the whispered apology at the teen's slip, but it did little to soothe the skipper's sudden flare of temper. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Sig restrained his anger.

"Okay, here's the deal. You need to ease up just a _little_. Go take a nap and when we're ready to haul again I'll send Junior to wake you up." His brows rose in silent warning as Brian opened his mouth and cut the teen's protests short. Instead Brian settled for a nod of reluctant obedience and disappeared downstairs. Sig grumbled darkly to himself and scrubbed a hand across his face. He studied the subtle lightening of the darkness sliding into shades of gray and almost missed the broken mayday coming in a fuzzy static over the radio twenty minutes later.

"Mayday, mayday, may-…_Sparrow_ took …wave…. listing to port…not responding. Cur- …-nates at…" Sig strained to hear the _Sparrow_'s coordinates through a rush of static, "…six men aboard. We are sinking; abandoning ship. Mayday, may-…" The abrupt rush of static filled the _Northwestern_'s wheelhouse for a few seconds before the radio went silent.

Entering the coordinates into his plotter, Sig felt a chill run through his belly. _Thirty-five miles from us…how could they sink just thirty-five miles from us?_ Hailing the Coast Guard, he informed the responder of the transmission he received and that he was heading to the _Sparrow_'s last known coordinates to assist in the rescue.

"Damn. Wonder what happened to make her go down like that." Jake's sudden soft whistle and voice near Sig's left shoulder made the skipper jump. Unwilling to let himself think about the hows and whys of the _Swallow_ sinking, Sig merely shrugged. He accepted the fresh mug of coffee from the younger man and sent up a silent prayer for the endangered crew.

"Want me to wake Runt now or let him sleep a little longer?"

"Let him sleep a while. He's no use to us like he is right now. But get the others ready so we can get those guys aboard the minute we get there." Jake nodded silently, quickly moving downstairs to pass along the news and Sig's decision to assist.

_I wish Runt would trust my choices as easily as Junior does_, Sig thought bitterly. Ten minutes before they arrived where the _Sparrow_ should have been, Norman went to wake Brian from a deep slumber.

"We at the next-" The look on Norman's face stopped Brian in mid-sentence and the teen's face paled.

"The _Sparrow_ sank. Get some coffee in you before you come up to the wheelhouse." Brian was on Norman's heels out of the stateroom and joined the others mere seconds after his uncle. The last cobwebs of sleep cleared the teen's brain as his crewmate's grim expressions greeted him. Following their gaze out the windows, his eyes went wide and the last of his color drained away.

"Oh shit…" Unable to tear his eyes from the broken debris littering the ocean's surface, Brian barely heard his soft words or Sig's equally soft response. A gentle smack to the back of his head brought the teen flinching back to the moment.

"Hey, you with us Runt? I need your eyes up here while the others are on deck. Take the port side, look for an orange life raft…and red Gumby suits."

Accepting the binoculars from Sig, Brian took several steadying breaths and struggled to control the jitters racing through his body. He swallowed against the rising bile in his throat as he raised the binoculars to his eyes; letting them hang around his neck, he settled on searching the heaving water for the telltale hint of orange or red with his bare eyes.

"They should be here, so where the _fuck_ are they? C'mon guys, where _are _you?" Sig muttered darkly to himself. Brian's sudden movement from across the wheelhouse startled the skipper from his dark thoughts. Shooting a glance at his nephew, Sig straightened at the sight of the teen holding the binoculars with white-knuckled grip.

"There! I got 'em! Shit, uh starboard side… two o'clock! Two o'clock!" Brian's voice was shrill, his pointed finger trembling with fear and anxiety. Following his gaze, Sig barely managed to pick out the flash of orange before it disappeared behind a wave. Making the necessary adjustments to rudder and speed, he pointed the _Northwestern's_ bow toward the _Sparrow_'s life raft and prayed they weren't too late. As they pulled alongside the raft, Sig twisted around to watch Jake jump overboard and swim out to the raft.

Struggling with the secured flap, Jake wrestled it open and heaved his torso inside. He slid back out seconds later followed by an orange clad man. Jake wrapped an arm around the man's chest and backpedaled towards the waiting boat as Norman lowered the life sling. Once the man cleared the rail, Jake went back and repeated the process two more times. Returning to the raft for the fourth time, he reluctantly pulled himself inside. He paused a moment to glance at the still man's icy blue face with an apologetic grimace.

"Sorry man…I don't mean any disrespect or anything, but I gotta do this." Jake grabbed the front of the dead man's life jacket and heaved him out into the waves before quickly rolling out himself. The final swim back to the _Northwestern_ felt like a marathon with the dead weight in his grip, and when he reached the life sling, he felt relief ease his tired limbs. Flopping the body across the sling, Jake reached around and held on tight as Norman lifted them from the water.

Brian stood ready to accept the next fisherman from Jake and was shocked to see Jake tumble over the rail with a dead man. Matt stepping forward to get their friend moving stirred Brian from his stupor. Gently gathering the dead man from Jake, he pulled him after Matt and Jake. He made it into the ready room before collapsing, holding the body to himself as if he could will life to return.

"Runt. Runt...c'mon man. Let's get you dried off and him covered. We still need you." Brian looked at Matt with a hollow, haunted look. The older man winced at the expression and gave the teen's shoulder another squeeze.

"C'mon." Offering Brian his hand, Matt helped him rise. Only when the teen steadied himself did Matt release his hand. Digging through the dryer, Matt pulled out a forgotten but clean towel and draped it over the dead fisherman's head and torso. He turned and entered the galley, wincing as he managed to look anywhere but the survivors' eyes.

Brian's return from the head brought the distraction Matt was hoping for. The teen clung to the doorjamb with a white-knuckled grip, almost as if he let go his knees would give out. An unhealthy tinge crept through his face and he swallowed hard as he saw the survivors again. The strongest of the three was relating the events leading up to their rescue. As the man was finishing, Sig's voice called for Norman; muttering for his nephew to sit, the temporary deck-boss disappeared into the wheelhouse.

Clearing the top step, Norman scanned the horizon as he looked to Sig. The sight on the water stopped him in his tracks.

"What – Fuck! Runt! Suit up!" Norman bellowed as he rushed downstairs, relieved to see Brian had responded immediately and already halfway suited up.

"Junior, stay with them. Matt!"

"Already there!" Matt's voice carried in from the ready room. Following Brian on deck, Norman readied the crane as Sig pulled alongside a man clinging to a body.

Lips tinged blue, the survivor watched lethargically as Brian splashed down near him. Violently chattering teeth gave the only indication that the freezing man fought for life.

The man stammered a protest as Brian tried to pry his fingers from the body. Taking a deep breath, he tried to explain.

"Promised. Promisssed I'd get him hom – home. Can't-can't let him sink...p-please! Don't-don't-don'..." Trembling took over the man's ability to speak and Brian could only nod his agreement while swallowing back his tears. Satisfied with Brian's nod, the fisherman let himself be hauled aboard. Moments later Brian followed with the weight of the dead skipper straining numb muscles.

"Grab him – can't hold 'im much longer!" Brian collapsed to the deck as Matt grabbed the _Swallow_'s captain. Matt heaved the body onto the sorting table and hauled Brian to his feet.

"We ain't done yet! Grab his feet and help me get him inside. No, Norm's got the gear – you just help me with...him." Matt nodded in the body's direction when Brian looked to protest. Brian's brows twitched and Matt knew the teen caught the slight hesitation in his voice. But Brian took hold of the dead skipper's feet and the two deckhands shuffled inside to lay the man beside his deckhand.

Once he covered the body with another clean towel pilfered from the dryer, Matt went to check on Brian. Knocking first, he opened the door to find Brian with dry sweats riding low on boney hips. The bruise from a few days ago was fading to a mottled blue, green and brown blotch on his left hip. Gooseflesh gave Brian's skin an almost reptilian look and Matt could see the teen's shivering from where he stood in the doorway.

"I feel like a fucking popsicle!"

"Take much longer to warm up and you _will _be!" They shared a grin as Brian settled several layers over his torso and wrapped Edgar's sleeping bag around him. Matt walked in and pulled Brian's blankets from his bunk.

"Lay down and I'll check on you in a few minutes. Try not to sleep though. Your dad'll kill me..." Matt trailed off with an awkward shrug. Brian shot him a lopsided grin from where he lay on Edgar's bunk, bundled up beneath blankets and a sleeping bag.

"That's if Mom doesn't get to you first!" He chuckled at Matt's involuntary shudder.

"I'd rather not, thanks. She beat the shit out of me before, back when she was pregnant with Chris and Kelly." Turning to go, Matt muttered something about a joke that Brian barely heard. Dozing off, he awoke two hours later with a grunt and jerked away from the rough shoving at his arm. Blinking stupidly into Matt's panic-filled face, the teen propped himself up on his elbows.

"Where are we? What time is it?...Oh fuck...The others? What happened? Are they all...or..." It took a few moments to remember the rescue he participated in, and when he did, a sick knot of survivor's guilt kicked him in the gut. Matt seemed to deflate as he related the update.

"Three survived, one's critical, two're dead. Coast guard left with them a half hour ago." Pausing, Matt waited for Brian to swing his legs over the edge of the bunk before continuing, "We're gonna be at the next string in ten minutes. Sig wants you to eat something and then back on deck."

Brian silently nodded as he stiffly rose off the bunk and brushed past Matt into the galley. _Fuck, he's too tired to even argue. I hope we finish up soon or Runt's gonna be completely useless if _WE _need him_, Matt thought ominously as he followed Brian. The teen scowled at him over the mug he was filling.

"Dude, you're almost as bad as Mom is...watching me like that. I've got a fucking Pop-Tart right here." Raising a half eaten Pop-Tart, he spoke around a mouthful of the pastry. Matt's eyes narrowed at the comparison to Ashton and he grumbled darkly as he turned on his heel.

"Yeah, well...eat two more!"

"Yes _Mom!_" Brian shot after Matt, who leaned back to flip him off. Brain returned the gesture to his retreating back and shoved the rest of the Pop-Tart in his mouth. Washing it and another one down with coffee, Brain pulled on his rain gear and joined his three crewmates in time to hastily fill a bait jug before helping Matt and Jake sort the crab. With stern look and a pointed finger toward the bait station, Matt barked out a two word order.

"Bait. Now." When Brian began to protest, he caught Norman's glare supporting Matt's decision. Rolling his eyes, the teen moved back to the bait station where he refilled the jugs almost as fast as they were coming aboard.

"He's pulled a dying man and a dead man from the water, cooked – well, _tried_ to cook, helped Norm repair the crane, back talked to everyone, punched Matt – though I think Matt had it coming – and fell asleep on his second watch. What else? Oh yeah. He's beating the ice right now like he's got a vendetta on all things icy."

"Sounds like he's coming along pretty well." Edgar's voice sounded relieved as Sig summed up Brian's activity in his father's two week absence. Sig deliberately failed to mention that his son had overexerted himself for the first week before finding his rhythm

"My flight gets in at three. So far, it looks like we'll be coming in on time. I'll call you when I get to Dutch." Edgar's talking snapped Sig back to the moment.

"I can't promise I'll be at St. Paul when Harris gets there with you. I know he's got a string fifty miles off my southern most one, but... Well, we'll figure out a transfer when he gets you."

Jake Harris had worked his way up to the captain's chair of his father's boat, the _Cornelia Marie_, with elder brother Josh as trusted deck boss.

"I know you hate it when I ask you this but how much longer do you think we have left in the season?"

"Ed, if you know I hate it, then why do you ask?" Sig could see his brother's grin over the phone, grimaced, and quickly amended himself, "And don't say 'because you can.'" This time Edgar laughed.

"Because I can. Okay, okay! Let me rephrase! How much of our quota have you already caught There, is that a suitable question, oh Captain Superstition?"

"Fuck off Ed. We've got a little ways to go before we reach our quota, but when we get you back, we'll be able to haul some serious ass." He heard Edgar groan and he grinned sadistically.

"How much is 'a little', Sig?" Edgar asked; by the tone in his voice Sig could tell his little brother knew the answer wasn't something he really wanted to hear.

"Well, I don't mean to count my crab before they're caught, but I figure we have a little over a quarter of the quota left." Sig heard Edgar groan an 'oh fuck me' and Ashton's voice respond.

"What did she say?" There was the slightest hesitation on Edgar's end before he responded.

"I'm hanging up now. I'll call you when my plane lands in Dutch." Sig laughed as they hung up and refocused on the first set of buoys coming up off the starboard bow. It was his last string before his scheduled offload at St. Paul, and he quickly scribbled a note to contact Harris on his way to offload.

Scrubbing down the deck while the others secured the hatch after the fourteen-hour offload, Brian's head bobbed in time with the song from his iPod. A faint smile hovered on his lips. His mind was still on the he'd received a text from Evelyn during their trip to the processor, during a rare moment when his cell found a strong enough signal.

_Guess whos goin 2 Udb this fall? Sent U letter w/ more info. XOXO E_

While he still had enough bars, he'd immediately sent off a quick reply.

"Runt! Wake up man! Let's get that hose stowed and outta this cold!" Jake's shout snapped Brian back to reality and the smile fell from his face. He helped Jake to secure the hose before following the older man inside.

Norman appeared a short while later with a handful of letters. Matt snatched the envelopes almost as soon as they hit the table. Grinning at a dozing Brian, Matt waved an envelope before the teen's unfocused gaze.

"_Another_ one Runt? Damn man, you got enough of these to stuff the forward tank!"

Blinking into awareness, Brian snatched the letter from Matt's grasp and was picking his way across the cluttered table before his mentor could react. A wide grin split Matt's face as Brain jumped to the floor and sprinted up the wheelhouse stairs.

"It's _gotta_ be good to make him move _that_ fast!" Matt's shouted tease earned him a good natured 'fuck off Bradley!' from the wheelhouse.

Suddenly suppressing grins, Jake and Norman found the table and their hands a fascinating study. Exchanging an amused look with Norman and a glance at a confused Matt, a snorted burst of laughter broke through Jake's resistance and he rocked back and forth in his seat at Matt's clueless look and questions.

"_Whoa! Fuck!_ Where the fuck did you come from?" Matt yelled out in surprise as a sudden weight landed on his back from behind. He stumbled forward a couple steps before Edgar slid off, clutching his sides as he shook with laughter. Several moments passed before the deck boss regained control of his laughter and accepted Matt's hand up.

"My plane got in early and Harris hauled ass to get here. It helped that he was trying to get ahead of the storm that's headed our way. Josh gave me a ride over on their skiff before they went back out." Nodding up at the wheelhouse, it was Edgar's turn to question.

"Where's Sig and Brian?"

"Runt's upstairs with a letter from Evelyn and Sig's at the processor's office." Something in Norman's neutral tone struck Edgar as odd and he lifted an eyebrow curiously. His playful mood was instantly replaced with his fisherman's animosity.

"What's wrong this time? They say our crab was bad or something?"

"Or 'something'. That storm you mentioned...according to our 'friends' at the processor it's going to be something from a Stephen King novel. It ain't gonna be pretty." Edgar flinched at Sig's voice coming from behind him. Quickly covering, Edgar shrugged and flashed a lopsided grin, countering with, "When have winter storms _ever _been pretty?"

Sig grunted, rolling his eyes as if to say 'tell me about it'.

"We basically have two choices. Stay here and wait it out or try to catch as much as we possibly can before getting slammed." Even before the words were out of his mouth, Sig already knew Edgar's answer. Looking between each of the men, he realized he already knew their answers as well. Jake still followed Edgar's lead in most decisions, as did Matt. The only one that Sig really looked to for advice was Norman, who merely smirked.

"Guess we're going fishing?"

"Guess we're going fishing," Sig echoed as Edgar and Matt disappeared into the ready room on their way to untie the lines. Norman joined them on deck a short moment later while Jake followed Sig upstairs.

Brian silently vacated the captain's chair as Sig crossed the wheelhouse and the teen disappeared downstairs. Sig pointed at the captain's chair and Jake sat. Sig sat in the co-captain's chair, arms folded across his chest as he watched Jake poke his head out the window. Satisfied the lines were safely secured on board, Jake glanced over to Sig.

"Take her out. And try not to hit the breakwater in the process." Jake snorted at the skipper's last order.

"When have I _ever_ hit the breakwater?" Jake's innocent tone had Sig smirking.

"Just go, Smartass." Silence fell and Sig watched the waves rise to meet the bow as Jake steered the _Northwestern_ back into open water.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for hanging in there with me. Things start getting darker for the guys in the next couple chapters. I'll try to get Chapter 6 finished and updated in the next week or so.****

* * *

**

Copyright Alissa Franko 2009-2010


	6. The Brewing Storms

Wind howled around the five men struggling just to stand, sending freezing spray in every direction. Brian's cheeks were pale beneath the red chapped skin and the fear glinted in his eyes. Hauling the _Sparrow_'s crew from the ocean was still fresh in his mind. Just once did he ask Sig how the survivors were doing, but then he dropped the subject; despite his silence on the matter, the others knew it still haunted him. He'd adjusted well to the shift in rotation since Edgar's return two days ago. He was back to sorting crab between baiting or stacking pots, beating ice when the freezing spray ground fishing to a halt.

Under the yellowish-orange glow of the floodlights, Brian hustled around the sorting table as Matt hefted the coiled shots into the pot; jumping onto the edge of the rack, the teen secured the crane's hook to the bridle and hopped back down to cautiously follow the pot across the deck. Climbing the stack, he secured the pot to the top of the stack with the heavy chain, zip ties and bungee cords holding the pot to it's neighbors. A weightless feeling lifted in his stomach and Brian looked up to watch as the boat's bow plowed through the crest of the wave.

His grip tightened around the chain and tried to flatten himself close to the pots as the white wall of water slammed into him, instantly driving him backwards. He lay dazed on his back, ears ringing and a sudden calm descended over the teen as noticed the snow falling for the first time. He turned his head to look out across the inky ocean, muscles protesting in his neck and shoulders. Another dousing of icy water snapped the teen from his daze and he stiffly rose to his knees. Swinging his legs over the edge of the stack, he half slid and half climbed down the slick pots.

Brian's feet touched the deck and his knees gave out from underneath him. The teen clung to the pots for support, slowly rising as his legs steadied beneath him. He squinted through the snow and water breaking over the boat for his crewmates. Staggering towards the safety of the galley hatch, the deck shuddered beneath his feet as it plowed through the crest of another wave. Water engulfed the deck and threw the teen from his feet.

Sliding across the deck, Brian's shoulders slammed into the pots. He grunted on impact; his head bounced off the mesh and he lurched forward as the boat rose to the crest of another towering wave. The deck seemed to lengthen beneath his feet as he struggled to stand. From nowhere, Matt caught his elbow and helped steady Brian's way inside.

Brian gritted his teeth against the pain beginning to spread from the base of his skull down across his shoulders. He avoided Edgar's dark look while he brushed past Norman and entered the stateroom to change. A quick conversation in hushed Norwegian reached him through the closed door before silence fell and Edgar poked his head inside. Although he glanced over his shoulder as Edgar entered, Brian kept his back to his father while he stiffly pulled on a dry shirt.

Edgar's brows twitched together at the mottled bruising spread across his son's back in various stages of healing. Silence dragged while Edgar struggled with the sudden paranoia that begged him to lock Brian in the stateroom until they arrived safely in Dutch Harbor at the season's end. He glared at the fresh bruise rising across Brian's left shoulder but quickly schooled his features into something less concerned when the young man turned around.

"Matt says you hit the pots pretty hard. How you holding up?" A narrow shoulder lifted in a slight shrug and both father and son winced. Seeing the poorly hidden worry in Edgar's eyes, Brian swallowed back a sarcastic reply and pulled on a dry Seattle Seahawks hoodie.

"I'll survive. I'll bum some Advil off of Uncle Norman and I'll be fine."

"You're _not _fine, Brian. We almost lost y-"

"But you didn't! I know the danger Dad, I've been on the stack at least fifty times since you were gone!" Brian pushed past Edgar, yanked the door open and slid behind the galley table. Staring at his bruised right hand, he shot a dark glare up at Norman as he set a two Advil and a mug of coffee before the teen. Norman returned the glare with a warning look. Edgar bumped Brian's shoulder with his hand, muttering a quiet 'move over' and sat beside his son.

"Look. I almost lost your brother and sister. I would rather die myself than lose any one of you. _Especially_ you. That's why I -"

"Dad, stop. I know why you went home. And I know why you're freaking out over me right now. You told me ten times already." Brian glanced at Edgar from the corner of his eyes, wishing Norman and Matt weren't sitting there with them. Jake made himself look busy with cooking breakfast but Brian knew he was listening as well. After a momentary pause, Brian cleared his throat and attempted to change to subject.

"I got a letter from Evelynn a couple days ago. She says Chris and Kelly are practically back to normal. Kelly and Nolan are getting pretty close now too. And Dusty's started teaching her the guitar. But from what Evelynn says, Kel and Nolan do almost everything together. Like they're inseparable or something." Another glance at his father revealed a dark glare aimed at the table. Brian picked at a scab on his wrist as he ventured further.

"Nolan's in love with Kelly. And I think Kelly might be starting to feel the same way about him."

"If he even _dares_-"

"He's in a fucking _wheelchair_,Dad! Besides, Nolan's more of a man than that scrawny scrap of shit could ever _dream_ of being. You should be glad she has a friend like Nolan. What with this shit happening and what happened to her as a kid, she should be a fucking nutcase right now." Before Brian knew what happened, Edgar had hauled him to his feet and shoved him so hard against the wall it left the teen in shock. The deckboss's hand was around Brian's throat and Norman pulled Edgar off him. Brian remained with his back against the wall as Edgar strained against his brother's grip.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about your sister like that. _Ever_," Edgar growled in a dangerous voice.

Brian's nostrils flared as he struggled to keep his temper in check. His face flushed then paled before managing to speak.

"You weren't the only one to nearly lose Kelly and Chris. You ever think about that? I almost lost them too."

"They're _my_ children! Fuck, Brian. Do you have to be so _fucking_ selfish right now?"

"_They're my siblings! _And I'm not the only one being selfish. _You're_ the one who leftin the middle of a _fucking_ trip to go take care of _his_ needs. Meanwhile, we stayed behind and busted our _asses _to pick up your slack…_I_ had to pick up your _fucking_ slack." Blinking against the sudden burning in his eyes, the teen sucked in a breath. "Mom had _everything_ under control at home…and you left when I needed you here…"

"We all did what we had to do to help them, Brian…" Brian spun and shot a nasty glare at Matt. He caught the double meaning in Matt's words, the memory stinging just as badly as before. Swallowing it back, Brian spat out his words.

"Stay the fuck out of this Matt."

"He's right though. Like it or not, we had a job to do. Your dad was doing his. We managed alright without him." Brian winced at Norman's soft words. Trying to hide his pained disappointment, Brian looked at each of the four men as he spoke.

"Then what was my job? If going home was Dad's job, what was I supposed to do?" Norman lifted his brows as he held his nephew's eyes.

"You did exactly what you were needed to do."

"But why not send me home? With the weather we had, why risk everything with me?"

Nobody answered for a long minute, but when the answer came, Edgar offered it quietly.

"Because we trust you, _I _trust you, to get the job done. And up to now, you have been." Brian turned and studied Edgar, the fight in him fading. Edgar rubbed a weary hand over his face and nodded at the wrap around bench. "Now will you sit down? Food's done and I'm hungry."

* * *

Brian sat alone in the wheelhouse, twin streams of smoke trailing from his nostrils as he sighed for the fiftieth time in the last fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes ago, his girlfriend Evelynn had called with important news. Brian sighed again and took a deep drag off his cigarette. Slowly, he exhaled and rubbed at his tired eyes with the heel of his left hand.

"Careful, if you get ash in your eye, it'll hurt like holy fuck." Brian grinned and laughed quietly as Jake came up to relieve the exhausted teen. Jake passed his crewmate a steaming mug of coffee and waited for him to move from the captain's chair. Gently nudging Brian's shoulder, Jake cocked his head.

"You still with me, Runt?" Brian blinked and nodded slightly before slipping past Jake. He leaned against the drawers and stared out into the inky blackness of night.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you think my dad would react if I told him I got my girlfriend pregnant?" A silence fell between the two while Jake thought on Brian's unexpected question. Brian waited patiently for Jakes answer; moments passed by and the silence dragged. Jake finally took a deep breath and groaned quietly.

"_IF_ you told him, I think he'd shit himself."

"But if I don't tell him, Mom or Kelly will."

"Okay…um. Fuck. Okay, look. Here's what we're gonna to do. Um, we're gonna be on our next string in a couple hours. Since Sig isn't feeling well, I'm gonna be up here. I won't tell him, even if Ashton and Kelly call. All you have to do is keep _your_ mouth shut." Jake glanced over at Brian, who nodded in silent agreement. _Poor kid. He's too young to be a dad…_Jake thought to himself, saying aloud, "You should get some sleep. This next haul's gonna be a bitch of a long one."

"I think Uncle Sig's evilness is beginning to rub off on you." Brian laughed as Jake grinned.

"Is that a bad thing?" Jake pulled a face, causing Brian to choke on his coffee.

"For you, yeah. It's very bad. You've been corrupted, man!" Brian shook his head at Jake's proud grin as he descended to the first landing. He paused as he heard Sig coughing. Brian grimaced at the sound of the cough and descended the rest of the way downstairs, quietly putting his empty mug into the sink rack before slipping into the stateroom he shared with Edgar.

Edgar groaned as he rolled over, murmuring in his sleep. He stirred long enough to register Brian climbing into the bunk above him, but then slid back into sleep. Two hours later, Edgar awoke to Brian giving his shoulder a couple rough shakes.

"Easy, Runt. I break easy these days." Brian's lips twitched in a humorless smile as he turned away. Shoving a beanie down on his mussed hair, the teen led the way into the galley. Pouring himself a mug of coffee, he chased half down with a couple Pop Tarts before finishing the black liquid in two gulps. All this happened within half a minute and before Edgar could say anything, Brian was in the other stateroom waking the others; within moments of disappearing into the stateroom, Brian was back and heading up the wheelhouse staircase.

Soon after Brian joined Jake in the wheelhouse, Norman, Matt and Edgar filed out onto deck. Ten minutes later, Brian appeared on the wheelhouse deck and carefully made his way down to the deck below. He paused as Matt lobbed the picking hook towards the approaching buoys before returning to his place behind the sorting table. The crew worked quickly to get the crab onto the sorting table; Edgar called up the count of 300 keepers and a hesitant pause preceded the command to stack the pot. The crew obeyed without thinking, but as the pot swung over the deck to the stack, Edgar gave Brian a curious look as the teen followed behind it. The look in his son's eyes suddenly rubbed Edgar the wrong way.

"Runt, did Sig ever get up?" Edgar spoke above the wind as Brian joined him at the sorting table. Brian shrugged as he began digging through the crab.

"No." Biting off the why before it could escape, Brian waited for his father to get to his point.

"Why the fuck not?" Brian's reluctance to answer raised the hairs on the nape of his neck and sent a chill slithering down his gut. "Brian? Why didn't Sig-?"

"I don't know, alright? Just…fuck, I don't know." Brian's voice cracked, and the frightened tone that slipped through sent a dark shadow across Edgar's face. He fell silent as he to help Matt and Norman sort the new pile of crab. He'd rarely known Sig to not get up for a new string. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach that he didn't want to think about during their last trip. Letting the matter drop, he focused on the task at hand.

Three and a half days later, the exhausted crew relaxed visibly as Jake announced the season's last pot. Matt held the hook while Edgar wrapped an old rag around the handle and doused it in lighter fluid.

"C'mon Runt. You make this throw, and you bless our whole next season. Miss, and you'll be responsible for the shittiest season…"

"I know, Matt." For a moment Brian looked as if he were about to say something else, but he swallowed whatever it was and held the hook steady as Edgar put the blow torch to the soaked rag. Matt and Edgar jumped back and Brian threw the flaming hook between the buoys with a fierce determination. The flame extinguished in a satisfying sizzle and Brian hauled the slack back. Guiding the shot through the block, the suppressed a grin until the pot rested safely on the launcher. Only then did he allow himself to relax a little.

He climbed the stack to secure the pot and paused after tightening the last zip tie. The others had finished sorting the crab and secured the deck a few minutes earlier. He stared numbly around him as he watched the waves surrounding the boat slowly grow bigger. Lurching forward as the _Northwestern _plowed through a wave, he flinched as the spray doused him. Fear stirred him to crawl down and beat a hasty retreat into the dry ready room. After hanging his up slickers, joined the others in the galley. The looks on the four men's faces sent Brian's stomach sinking into his boots.

"Is he still…" Jake shook his head, stopping Brian in mid sentence.

"He took over for me just before you came in. But he's not doing too good…" One glance at Edgar and Jake trailed off, wincing.

"It's almost like Phil all over again," Matt muttered into his coffee. Edgar squeezed his eyes shut, rapping his knuckles against the wooden edge of the counter before continuing with the food he was cooking. Silence descended between the men, five sets of eyes rising to the ceiling with each cough and muffled cuss that drifted down the staircase. After twenty minutes of listening to the coughing, Brian drained the last of the coffee into a clean mug and headed towards the stairs.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Brian glanced over his shoulder at Matt, brows furrowing uncertainly as he thought out his answer.

"Giving him something hot to drink." Without waiting for a response he disappeared upstairs. Sig glanced over at the cautious footsteps that broke his quiet trance-like state. The skipper's face was pale, sweat beading across his forehead. Clearing his throat, he tried to straighten his posture from the pained hunch. Neither spoke as he accepted the coffee mug from Brian before the greenhorn retreated to the co-captain's chair.

Seconds lengthened into hours on their run to the processor for the season's final offload. Although Sig's coughs still sounded loud in the silence of the wheelhouse, his breathing was beginning to sound better. Brian stifled a relieved sigh and drifted off into an uneasy doze. When he felt his body lift from the chair and move forward, as if in slow motion, he muttered a curse aimed at no one in particular. Hitting the dash, the teen's eyes shot open and fear flooded his brain.

The dawn's glow was obscured by mountainous waves, the spray tinged the oranges and reds of a new day. The boat rolled dangerously as the bow descended into the trough and before Brian could react, he hit the floor and rolled to crack his head against the portside wall.

Looking around the wheelhouse, he swore loudly when he saw Sig sprawled on the floor between the deck monitor and chair. His voice cracked as he screamed for Edgar and Norman; scrambling to his feet, he was at the fallen skipper's side in half a heartbeat. He felt for a pulse with trembling fingers while his own thundered in his ears. A hand roughly shook his shoulder and he focused on Norman's face.

"Get the boat under control. Find out where we are and get us to port." Brian nodded numbly as he stepped over his uncle and tightly gripped the throttle. Heart in throat, Brian fought to keep the boat steady. Waves crashed over the bow again and again; the sunrise once again was blocked out by thick storm clouds and a dusky half-light descended.

Blindly steering the boat, Brian's eyes were torn between the radar and rollercoaster ocean. He saw movement from the edge of his vision and he jumped as a hand descended on his shoulder. Chest heaving with fright, he stared blankly into Jake's worried face.

"Give me the radio and switch it to the Coast Guard's frequency." Brian numbly did as bidden, listening in disbelief to Jake calling in an emergency. When asked, Brian gave their coordinates and heading. The teen's heart sank suddenly as the responder gave Jake instructions for stabilizing Sig until either the weather calmed down enough for an air evacuation, or they reached Akutan. Jake soon signed off and headed towards the stairs.

"Wait! Is he gonna be okay? What about the others?" Tension filled Brian the longer Jake let the silence drag.

"It's not good." Jake hesitated a moment longer, staring at the wall ahead of him as he clung to the railing. "Don't be surprised if someone comes up telling you to throw on your Gumby and abandon ship." Jake forced himself to go down the stairs without looking at Brian. Quietly entering Sig's stateroom, he sat on the floor at the foot of the bunk and closed his eyes.

"Coast Guard says to try and keep him stable until the weather calms down enough for an evac. Runt's gunning for Akutan, but it's a long shot. He might have to veer off at Saint Paul or the Priblofs," Jake's words did nothing to calm Matt's worry as he kept watch over Sig's vitals. The unconcious skipper seemed to be stable for the time, but the fever had Matt's stomach clenching over an icy ball of unease.

"Let's hope he lasts that long."

"I hope we _all_ last that long." Jake's pessimistic words had both men knocking on wood; Matt closed his eyes, sending up a silent prayer.

_From your lips to God's ears, Jakers. I just hope He's listening._

_

* * *

_**A/N: I've tried to get this chapter just right. We've got one, maybe two chapters left of this story. It'll make one of my shorter stories, but I enjoyed writing it. Please keep up the constructive reviews; they help me write better stories, which means better plots, storylines, and general better reading for you all.**

Story copyright Alissa Franko 2010-2011


	7. The Fear of God, the Joy of Life

Stretched out on his side, Brian absently wiped the dried tears from his eyes and slowly opened his eyes. Both Jake and Sig were motionless save the rise and fall of their chests; now that Sig's fevered Norwegian ramblings were over, Brian almost wished that he would start up again. The sickly, wet wheezing coming from the two prone men had his skin crawling with goosebumps.

He lay in Sig's bunk, racking his brain for what woke him from his doze. His crewmate and skipper's labored breathing had been that way for several hours, and Matt had taken over the helm on their limp back to safe harbor. Studying the almost peaceful expressions on the unconscious men's faces, he flinched as Matt suddenly opened the door. Matt shook his head at Brian's haunted look before stepping aside for the two coast guard medics. One approached Brian, who slowly sat up.

"I'm fine. My uncle…he's not doing good. Jake too. I think…" Swallowing hard, Brian squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden tears.

"I think I get it. We'll take care of them." Nodding at the medic's gentle words, Brian struggled to compose himself and watch as Sig was carried out, followed shortly by Jake. Brian sat alone in the silence a moment before rising slowly and descending into the galley. Matt joined him with a stuffed duffle bag.

"Get your coat on, you're going with them to the hospital."

"What about Dad and Norman and you?" Brian asked as he stiffly shrugged into his coat and accepted his duffle. Matt shook his head and lifted his shoulder uncertainly.

"I'll stay here with the boat. The fleet is looking for Edgar and Norman. Either them or the coast guard'll tell me when they find them. You'll be the first I call when I find out anything." Matt extended his hand and Brian grasped it tightly; pulling the teen into a brief hug, he sniffled and stepped back.

"Go. Call me when you get there," he said gruffly. Brian disappeared out the ready room hatch. All was silent in the boat as Matt slowly climbed the stairs to wheelhouse.

* * *

Tucking neat blonde curls into the clip, Evelynn swallowed hard and lowered a hand to her stomach. Kelly glanced at her friend's reflection in the mirror. Evelynn smiled and smoothed nervous hands over the front of her dress.

"I can't believe it's almost been four months."

"I know. You look great though. I wish I could be as pretty as you are when I'm pregnant." Kelly shyly returned Evelynn's grin and hug.

"You will be, sweetie. I just know it." The girls turned back to the mirror to finish getting ready for Evelynn's graduation in a couple hours. Two minutes later, they filed out of the gymnasium's restroom giggling. Christopher was waiting nearby with Nolan, Dusty, and Ashton. He called out their names and lifted his camera. The girls wrapped an arm around each other's waist and Christopher snapped a couple pictures before Nolan and Dusty joined in for a photo session. Some pictures were goofy, some were serious, and Ashton convinced Christopher to get in on a few of them.

When it was time for the graduation ceremony to commence, the three Hansens joined the families of Nolan, Dusty, and Evelynn in the stands. Before long, the school's principal addressed the gathered families, introducing the graduating class's valedictorian; the graduating class loudly applauded Dusty's speech, drowning out the school's orchestra as it struck up the age old song "Pop and Circumstance". The longest part of the entire event began and an hour later, Dusty crossed the stage to solemnly accept her diploma's cover and the principal's handshake.

Three hours passed before the five teens were gathered in the Hansen living room, playing Dusty's "Guitar Hero" video game. Oblivious to Ashton recording their fun, Nolan was accompanying Kelly's guitar playing with the plastic drum set as she played an advanced song. Finishing the song, Kelly beamed at her friends' rowdy cheering of their performance. She wrapped an arm around Nolan's shoulders as she bent to hug him, grinning as he leaned into the gesture.

The ringing phone broke through the festivities, and the Hansen twins froze as a silence descended. Christopher glanced at the clock and swallowed hard; few people called the house at two in the morning unless it was bad. Ashton's voice carried through the silent house, but revealed nothing in it's somber tone. When she returned, Ashton stared at her two children, trying to find the words she needed.

"The boat's in the dry dock at Dutch Harbor…Matt called me from the clinic." She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Taking several deep breaths, she forced her eyes open.

"Brian? Daddy? Our uncles?" Kelly's voice trembled and she sank to the couch. Christopher held her, trying to comfort her. "What about Jake? What happened?" He asked.

"Brian, Sig, and Jake were flown to the hospital in Anchorage. Sig and Jake are in critical condition. Brian and Matt got lucky, they weren't hurt very badly. He doesn't know much more than that."

"What about Dad and Uncle Norman though? What happened to them?" Chris asked. Everyone jumped as the phone rang again, and Ashton nearly dropped it. Answering with a shaky hello, she slid to the floor with a sob as Brian's voice greeted her.

Christopher gently took the phone from his mother as Dusty guided her to the couch. Christopher sat on the floor, back against the wall, and spoke with his brother. Pressing the speaker button, he held the phone in front of himself.

"They're freaking out right now. What happened out there?"

"_We hit a nasty-assed squall right after our last pot. The engine died and we took on water. Dad and Norman tried to fix the engine while Matt stayed with Sig. Jake was in the wheelhouse, at that big-ass wheel Sig kept. Thank God it still works, or else we'd all be dead."_ They heard a faint knocking sound as Brian slipped into a superstitious moment. Brian coughed, a wet sounding hack, and cleared his throat. All but Christopher shuddered at the sound of phlegm hitting pavement.

"_Well, after an hour of struggling, he told me to help Matt get Sig in a survival suit. I figured we were screwed at that point, but I did it anyways. Me and Matt got suited up too, then I took Dad and Norman theirs. They didn't want to take the time to do it…Dad said something about not letting the boat sink. That she could be saved, if I would just stay and help. So, I promised to help if they promised to get their Gumbies on. Pissed Dad off, but Norman just glared at him and told him to shut the fuck up and put it on while I was there…"_

Brian paused his story long enough to pull a drag off a cigarette; the familiar sound of the smoke being drawn in, held, and exhaled filled the silence before Brian continued.

"_So I bailed the engine room while Dad and Norman looked for the leak. Two hours later, they found it and managed to plug it. But by then the pumps were fried and we couldn't drain the tanks…or the engine room either. It was waist deep by then. Waves kept coming so bad that the only way to get rid of the water was to dump it out the galley porthole. Took us another couple hours to get half the water bailed out, and Norman left Dad and I to check on Jake, and I guess to check something on deck._

"_He never came back down. Dad got worried and went up to check on _him_ but then _he_ never came back down. Norm must've been gone a couple hours. Felt like only a couple minutes, though. When Dad didn't come back, I started getting worried. _

"_Then Matt yelled at me to get up to Sig's room, that he was going to take Jake's place at the wheel. I'd gotten most of the water bailed out by then and I came up."_ Brian sighed heavily as he took another moment to heard a male voice say something about smoking with his lungs before the faint sounds of a cigarette being snuffed out. Brian chuckled humorlessly into the phone.

"_All the shit I've been through in the last couple days, and they decide to ride me over _smoking, _for Christ's sake. But anyways, I go up into Sig's room, and there's Jake on the floor. Out like a light, bleeding from the head."_

"What happened to Uncle Sig in the first place? Where was he through all this?" Christopher asked, not sure he wanted to know the answers.

"_He was sick and the storm gave him a serious ass kicking. When we first started back for Saint Paul, I fell asleep a couple hours after joining him in the wheelhouse. I woke up when the boat started rolling badly and found him on the floor. He wasn't moving, barely breathing…I felt for a pulse and just screamed for Dad and Norman. I didn't know what else to do."_ Brian's voice trembled, and he sucked back the sobs threatening to overtake him.

"_We decided to make his room the sickroom, and for the most part, Matt took care of Sig. When Jake got hurt, I took over watching them."_ Brian fell silent, save for the occasional quiet sniffling. A familiar voice came over the line followed by Brian's soft greeting for Matt. Brian's breath hitched as Matt whispered in his ear. When he spoke again, it was directed at Matt.

"_Oh God. Where did they find them…Chris, I gotta go. I'll call you back, I promise."_ The line went dead after that, and everyone stared at the phone in Christopher's hands.


	8. We're Just Learning to Live

Icy wind howled through the cement awning where Brian sat on the bench outside the hospital. Pulling a drag off his cigarette, he slowly exhaled a long stream of smoke and breath. The sight of his father laying in the bed three floors above were mixed up with memories of the search and rescue of the _Sparrow_'s crew amid her flotsam. Freshly overlapping those memories was his crew's own brush with death. His eyes burned with smoke and unshed tears; swallowing hard, he rubbed at his eyes with grimy fingers.

"You'll get an eye infection if you keep that up." Brian jumped as the surgeon appeared by his side and then gazed down at his hands as if noticing the grime crusting them for the first time. Under the surgeon's stare, the teen took one last pull off the half smoked cigarette. He snuffed it out and tucked it in his jacket pocket. Turning his head, he blew out the smoke and covered a cough.

"How is he?" Voice tight with fear and worry, Brian forced himself to meet the doctor's eyes. The surgeon sighed heavily and sat beside Brian.

"He'll survive. That may have been his last trip though…" Tears slid past Brian's tightly shut eyes as the surgeon explained the extent of Edgar's injuries, the drops making indents on the slush at Brian's feet; choking back sobs while an uncomfortable silence settled, Brian missed Matt's approach. Heavy footsteps brought the teen's head up and a sob escaped him when he saw the look on his mentor's face.

Matt grabbed the front of Brian's coat and pulled his godson into a hug. The surgeon excused himself while Brian sobbed freely and tears ran down Matt's cheeks. A few moments passed before they swallowed back the tears and, stepping back, wiped the tears from their cheeks. They slowly returned to the lobby, Brian's steps deliberate in their placement. When voices called them from behind, Brian took a deep breath to steel himself and turned to greet Ashton, Kelly and Christopher. He noticed Nolan beside Kelly as Christopher paused his pacing and nodded his greeting.

Ashton wrapped Brian in a tight bear hug, but instantly let go at his grunt of pain. She brushed his coat aside and reached to lift his layered shirts.

"No Mom, please don't. Not now, not here." He whispered, and grimaced as Ashton slowly released the shirts with a distrusting look. He hid the grimace behind another cough which earned him a dark glare. Wrapping his arm around his mother's shoulders, he murmured, "Please, let's just go back and see Dad. We can talk about it in his room."

Soft, rhythmic beeps and low whispers slowly penetrated the thick blackness surrounding him. Breathing deep, he tried to open his eyes and sighed when his eyelids refused to obey. A familiar hand gripped his bandaged one and a woman's voice reached him. _I know that voice…where do I know her from? Why can't I wake up? What happened? Where am I…?_ Slipping back into the darkness, his thoughts remained unanswered.

* * *

Flinching, Edgar groaned as consciousness slowly returned again. Cracking his eyes open, he blinked to clear the watery haze from his vision. A hand slid into his, comforting and familiar while another stroked back his hair. He turned his head and studied the woman next to him. Her red hair was fading to strawberry blonde, but the green eyes were bright and the expression on her face was felt like déjà vu.

"Ashton?" His voice was a hoarse breath, uncertain and confused. Ashton sobbed and covered her mouth with her free hand. Edgar's hand weakly gripped hers, his thumb lightly rubbing the back of hers. A hand on his left shoulder caught his attention, and he turned to see a tall young man seated beside him; a shorter teen stood hovering over his shoulder.

"Brian, Chris…Kelly? Where's Kelly?" Struggling to rise, Edgar stopped as Kelly appeared in the doorway with two boxes in her hands. Nolan wheeled in behind her, three more boxes in his lap. As Nolan gave a box to Ashton, Kelly held the boxes out to her brothers and greeted Edgar.

"Hi Daddy." Edgar's arm shook as he lifted it towards his daughter with a hoarse murmur. Christopher retreated to the chair behind Brian as Kelly sat on the edge of the bed. Kelly's barely contained the flinch as Edgar's fingers lightly brushed over her cheek. He let his hand drop down to her knee, pain glinting in his eyes.

"That bastard." Kelly stared down at Edgar's hand on her knee and took a deep breath. She glanced over at Brian and Christopher for support. Her lips twitched into a smile as she watched her twin inhale his cheeseburger and fries. Brian's take-out box remained untouched in his lap. Edgar followed Kelly's gaze and his brows knotted together at the look on Brian's face.

"You look like you've just seen death…" Brian's eyes suddenly focused and the box crumpled in his tightened grip. Edgar's raspy words struck a tender chord inside the teen and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

"You really don't remember what happened, do you? Yes, Dad, I've just seen death. I've seen it five times in two different days. Look around you. Who is missing from this picture?" Brian's voice was hard and weary, his last tears shed hours ago.

"Brian, please don't." Ashton's voice was soft but weary, as if she'd heard this rant before. "Of course he's not going to remember, he just woke up." Brian ignored her and watched Edgar's reaction as the confused man did as bidden.

"Sig, Norman. Where are my brothers?" Edgar looked back at Brian, pulse rising as faint memories tickled the back of his brain. "Brian, where are your uncles?" He felt tears burning his eyes and panic filling his chest as his eldest son met his stare. The exhaustion and grief held in the hazel eyes hinted at the answers he didn't want to accept.

"God _damn you!_ Where are my brothers? Fuck…Matt, Jake. What about them? Answer me you _God damned bastard!_" The door swung open and a doctor rushed in, followed closely by a nurse.

"I need you all to leave now and let him rest," the doctor ordered. Everyone but Brian moved to obey; he moved his gaze to the ceiling, window, walls, anywhere but his father. The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, but Brian shrugged it off with dark glare. Taking several deep breaths, he managed to meet his father's eyes.

"Matt's fine but…" Brian stood to leave, suddenly feeling ancient and tired. Edgar grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly tight grip.

"Please…what about my brothers? Jake?" Edgar's voice wavered and tears slid down his cheeks as Brian sank back into his chair.

"I'm sorry, Dad. They're gone." Brian's chest was tight as he broke the news to his horrified father, giving just the bare facts of how they died. He was still by Edgar's side when the doctor stepped inside twenty minutes later. She silently began the oddly comforting routine of checking vitals when Brian spoke softly.

"He cried himself to sleep. But he had to know. It would have eaten him alive, not knowing what happened to his brothers." The nurse nodded at his questioning look, putting on what she hoped was a comforting smile and stood by Brian.

"I can't say that I know what you, your dad and your friend are going through, because I don't. What I do know is, you did the right thing by telling him. You're a good man, Brian. Remember that." She gave Brian's shoulder a gentle squeeze and started away.

"I told him the truth…about seeing death. But I hoped we got rid of the bad juju when we tried saving the _Sparrow_'s crew…"

"Brian, listen to me. You did your best with those guys and you did your best with your uncles and friend. But keep going on like this and I'll give you an antidepressant to go along with those antibiotics and vitamins. Besides, I don't think they would want you to mope around like this for too long."

Brian flinched as if smacked by the exasperated sharpness in the doctor's voice. A faint smile brightened his face as he nodded his agreement. Rubbing a hand across his face, he bit back a yawn and resumed his silent vigil. He missed the doctor's sad smile as she left to talk with the waiting Hansen's before continuing her rounds. An hour later, she returned to find Brian sleeping with long legs splayed before him and chin resting on his chest. He jumped upright as the doctor's hand gently shook his shoulder.

"You should go home, get some sleep. When was the last time you got more than an hour of sleep?" Brian shook his head at her concern.

"It's gotta be over a week since I really slept. And it's not because I'm not tired…God knows I want to sleep. It's all the fucking nightmares that keep me awake."

"Your brother offered to stay and keep an eye on him while you go home. Your sister and her boyfriend stayed behind to take you. Why not go and just lay down, watch a movie or something? Just spend time with your family, you know?"

Brian nodded slowly. Forcing himself to rise, he swayed a little before steadying. The doctor hovered at his elbow a moment then stepped away. She followed him out into the hallway and pulled the door partway shut behind her.

"We'll call you if anything changes. Try and get some rest; your dad'll be home before you know it." She shook Brian's hand as Christopher, Kelly and Nolan approached. She smiled to herself as Brian gingerly draped an arm around Kelly's shoulders and kissed her temple before the headed for the exit. Christopher's softly spoken musings caused her to flinch.

"I think they're gonna be alright."

* * *

Edgar gingerly pulled himself into the wheelhouse and staggered to the co captain's chair, where he sank down with a small sigh of relief. He listened as Brian busied himself with getting ready to cast off. The boat was freshly repaired and painted, and if he hadn't survived the near sinking himself he would have never known anything had happened to her.

The boat slowly started forward, running smoothly under Brian's careful hand. Edgar's eyes opened to study the boy that guided the boat. _He's a man now, isn't he?_ Edgar thought.

They slipped through the breakwaters and nausea hit Edgar full force. He grumbled something dark about seasickness and absently touched the tiny patch underneath his ear. Brian's mouth twitched into a smile at his father's grumbling.

"Yeah, laugh it up Runt. Just be glad you don't have to live with this _every_ fucking time you go out on a boat." Edgar shared Brian's smile as they made the run out to sea. Secured in a box on the floor by Edgar's feet were three small urns, the ashes inside waiting to be spread over the watery expanse. For an hour they were silent, watching the calm waves pass beneath the bow as they steamed to their destination. Before long, Matt joined them and sat on the bench. No words were spoken; no words were needed. Four hours and an eternity later, Brian eased the throttle back into neutral and he turned to face Edgar.

"Ready?" Edgar managed a nod while Matt picked up the box and they followed Brian through the galley to the starboard rail. Nick joined them at the rail, but stood off to the side; with them, yet somehow outside their depth of loss. Brian handed each opened urn to Edgar, who carefully poured the ashes into the ocean below; first Sig's, then Norman's, and finally Jake's ashes drifted slightly in the breeze before hitting the water.

Edgar looked down at the urn in his hand, a picture of Jake grinning taped to the side. Tears dripped onto the picture as he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. Suddenly he lobbed the urn as far as his tender body would allow and listened to the heavy _plunk_ as the ceramic jar splashed into the water. He did the same with the remaining two urns: gaze at Sig and Norman's pictures a moment before lobbing each urn into the ocean. Wiping his eyes, Edgar patted Brian and Matt's shoulders and sniffled. Looking over, he motioned Nick over and squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"We've done what we came here to do. Now let's go back and get some tendering done. Brian, when we get a chance, lets talk about Kings…I'm gonna need some help around here." Brian nodded, following his mentors back inside and reclaiming the captain's chair for their first tendering transfer. Matt sat across the wheelhouse from him, while Edgar rested below. Nick remained in the galley to prepare their first real meal in days.

Seagulls, terns, and other seabirds surrounded the boat expectantly as they approached the rest of the fleet, three gulls resting on the bow to eye the wheelhouse windows above. Raising his cell phone, Brian snapped a picture of the birds before they spread their wings and joined the flock.

"So…did you tell Edgar about Evelynn?" Matt's random question didn't make sense at first, but then Brian nodded.

"Yeah. I told him a couple days after I told him about Sig, Norm, and Jake."

"And? How'd he take it?" Brian shrugged at Matt's prompting tone.

"Surprisingly well. Wanted me to name the baby after one of them…I'm thinking Sam for the first one. If we decide to have more kids, I'll talk to Evelynn about an en and a jay name for the next two." They fell silent again for a while, then Matt spoke quietly.

"You're going to be a good dad."

"Thanks." Brian let the conversation drop and when Nick approached, he was relieved when the deckhand simply handed him a plate before sitting on the bench in silence. The youngest deckhand inhaled his food and his friends grinned. Brian caught their grins when Nick got back up to take it.

"I'm glad to see your appetite's back." He ruffled Brian's shaggy hair and gently pushed it to the side.

"Yeah. I stop thinking about everything that happened, and then I don't hurt so bad. It's a learning curve...one hell of a learning curve. Being with Evelynn and the others helped, but..."Lifting a shoulder in a shrugg, he shook his head.

"You think you've healed, there'll always be something to knock you flat on your ass. Family and friends do help, but I know what you mean. _We _know what you mean. We just have to learn how to live again. It's almost as if we're living _for _them. Sometimes thinking about it that way helps too."

Half an hour later, they arrived at the first boat and Nick and Matt left to go wake Edgar and begin working.

* * *

Pressing his lips to his sleeping month old son's pale blond hair, Brian gave him a gentle hug before passing the infant back to Evelynn. He cupped her cheek with his right hand and kissed her on the lips. He stepped back smiling; soaking in the sight of his fiancé holding his son in the early morning light, he spoke softly.

"I'll see you guys in a couple months. I love you."

"I love you too. Now go, before I change my mind and keep you home." Brian laughed and climbed over the starboard rail. Edgar's voice came over the loudhailer as his son made his way to the bow.

"Finally ready to go, Runt? Get these lines cast already, I wanna go fishing."

Evelynn stood with the remaining Hansens, Dusty and Nolan and watched as Brian hauled in the bowline. As Edgar pulled away from the dock, he stuck his head out the window and lifted his arm towards Ashton and his twins. Brian straightened from securing the line and returned his family and friends' waves. He watched them disappear from view before returning to work. His thoughts shifted from them to the season ahead of him. There were two new men aboard: a greenhorn fresh off the docks and a full share deckhand Sig had known as a kid.

Shrugging back the unbidden memories, Brian turned and watched as they entered into the Puget Sound. He took comfort in the movements and sounds of his family boat moving through the water. As the left the San Juan Islands behind and entered into the open ocean, he moved to the bow and watched the dolphins racing the boat. A few swam on their sides, looking up at him with their innocently grinning faces and he smiled to himself._

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**A/N: This is the end of Seaworthy Sons. If anyone thinks I screwed up the ending, please let me know! I'm also open to thoughts on how to improve and make better this story, or any of the others I've written! Constructive criticisms help me make better stories that you all love and enjoy. :D**

**When I first wrote this, I cried because I am a Norman fan and killing him was excruciating. Months later, I still can't believe I killed him. But hopefully I can make it up to my fellow Norman fangirls/guys in another story down the road. My next story is a sequal to _Honor's Truth_ because I belatedly realized that was the story that was supposed to recieve a sequal. But if anyone has any special requests for a story, just ask! The story's title is inspired by the Garth Brook's song "Learning To Live Again". That song and title are copyrighted to the singer/songwriters.**

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Copyright Alissa Franko 2010-2011


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